Times Change
by Spider Jerusalem
Summary: In the aftermath of Sly 3 our heroes take stock of thier past adventures and attempt to tackle the problem of just what they're going to do next. Internal conflicts threaten to tear the gang asunder, but such strong ties are not so easily destroyed...
1. Loose Ends

"That sneaky devil…"

"What? Do you see him?"

The chilly wind blew hard past Bentley's face and the stars twinkled in the velvet sky as the two figures he'd been observing retreated from the balcony across the street. He shivered in his shell, and grasped the tiny microphone that protruded from his helmet and held it close to his mouth.

"This is Chip to Gadget, I've been spotted, over."

"Gadget to Chip, do you want to abort? Over."

"Chip to… Aw, the hell with this, I'm sick of these names Penelope." Bentley grumbled. He really hated that show.

"Okay, okay, it was just in case anyone was monitoring the line. Who spotted you?" Penelope's soothing voice came through his ear piece.

"Who d'you think?" Bentley laughed.

"I see. What now?"

"Well, it doesn't look like he's raised the alarm…" Bentley stated, scanning the area with his binocucom. "Guess the old friendship still counts for something."

"Sly'd never do that to you. How are you going to proceed?"

"I've gotta get in there." Bentley replied. "Can you stay on the line and keep the RC chopper ready for aerial support?"

"Sure thing hun."

"How did I ever manage without you, sweetie?" The tortoise murmured softly to the mic.

"You didn't. Sly did. Over and out."

There was a brutal two seconds of white noise in a night where the only other sound was the subtle whistling of the wind before the mic cut out. Bentley exhaled, his breath forming a cloud that hovered for a few seconds in the air, before vanishing into the ether, like his thoughts. He blinked. He smiled.

"Alright, let's go."

He gently caressed the joystick on his custom wheelchair, and chair, Bentley and all swung gently round 180 degrees. The hydraulics were smoother than quicksilver, and slowly, he inched forward, gradually picking up speed, until he came within three feet of the small wall at the edge of the roof. It was there that he hit the special button on the side of his chair, and began to ascend into the air with all the grace of a tortoise in a wheelchair. He moved up then out, over the Parisian streets. As he hovered over the alley that ran adjacent to the building he was until recently occupying, the thrusters underneath his chair coughed and spluttered like a chimney sweep with cystic fibrosis. A repeating pattern of brickwork rushed past Bentley's eyes for two bloodcurdling seconds. Then the parachute the tortoise wore on his back deployed, and the sudden jolt forced him down into his own shell. The chair floated down the last few stories of the building then touched down lightly in the alleyway next to a pair of foul smelling bins. The odour assaulted Bentley's nostrils, but he did his best to ignore the stupefying smell.

"Thanks for servicing the chair Pen, it's moving smoother than ever," Bentley whispered to the night.

"I can see," came the reply. Penelope's voice, normally melodious and beautiful to Bentley's ears, came in uncharacteristically tinny and mechanical through the microphone speaker.

"You can?" Bentley replied.

"Eyes to the skies, babe."

Bentley glanced back up the way he had come, just in time to see the tiny RC chopper slice past the strip of pinprick sky he could see. Grinning, he returned his gaze to the ground.

"Thanks cutie. Over and out."

He severed the parachute cords and scrunched the silk back into his backpack as best he could. He opened the front compartment of his pack and pulled out something made of white fabric. He exhaled hard, creating more clouds in the night. He hoped this would go ok. Sly always was much better at this kind of thing.

-

The warm light from the crystal chandeliers shone down from the acoustic ceiling tiles onto the party below. The dance floor was a complex flurry of ball gowns and cocktail dresses. Every colour of the spectrum was well represented, and everywhere you looked there were smiles interspersed with tiny ricochets of elegant laughter. At the centre of this social spectrum, a vixen stood, head held high, her violet hair pinned up in flirtatious manner; with a few renegade strands flowing down her back like a water fall. She wore a deep blue dancing dress to match; it wrapped her, cling film tight, showing off her best features. There was a slit up one side of the dress, from which her auburn leg could be seen. If you were to follow it down, which it must be said, many men over the course of the night did, you would reach her cyan stiletto shoes, in which she stood like she'd worn them all her life. Her legs were slightly splayed, and although she was in the middle of the dance floor, she was the one person who wasn't dancing. It would almost have made for a sad scene, as she coyly lifted up her bare arms to adjust one of her hairpins by a few millionths of an inch, but for the broad smile that illuminated her face. She was unashamed, completely comfortable in her surroundings, in fact, she was perfect, for that time and that space she was perfect, she fit in more than the familiar slow step that washed over the dancers, more than the frilly ball gowns and the black tie tuxedoes, and certainly more than flowers and candles that bedecked the dining tables around the edge of the vast ballroom.

She radiated the aura of a woman in love, it was clear to anyone who brushed past her, any man (or for that matter woman) who made eye contact with her got the clear message. That went some way to explaining why no one was bothering her, if it hadn't been perfectly obvious to everyone why she was alone, you could bet that she would not be able to move for the propositions that would have come her way. Every man in the room who kept throwing her wistful, longing glances knew she had her lover with her. Maybe he was at the bar, ordering Champagne that they would sip together on the balcony. Maybe he was fetching their coats, so as to retire for an early night. Maybe he was hailing a taxi to show this goddess the Parisian nightlife. Or maybe…

The dancers parted before her. Anyone watching would have been surprised. Before her stood no biblical or mythological figure, not one with the power or even the presence to ordinarily divide a throng, not even one who was feared or who held public notoriety. Not one who was renowned for his sterling work in the Paris police force, not one who had a solid ten year work record. In fact, not one that anyone else knew at all. The fellow dancers in the room would choke into their cocktails if they knew half of the gentleman's shady past. Before her stood no saint.

The raccoon passed through the generous gap the dancers had allowed him. He couldn't really understand it, it was like all eyes in the room were fixed on him, he was the centre of attention, somehow everyone there knew who he was. But none of that mattered right now. He shifted his broad shoulders around in his snugly fitting tuxedo and glanced downwards to adjust his carnation. Then he looked up, and met the vixen's gaze perfectly. It was all the she could do not to draw breath when she saw those eyes. Those eyes had held her captive, her, a policewoman of all things, for far too long. She felt as though she was on the edge of an abyss, staring in to those eyes, and if she lost concentration for even a second, she would fall and those two pools of hazel infinity would claim her forever. Already she could feel herself slipping, those eyes, framed by black rings of fur to further accentuate their brightness, engulfed her. It had never been so intense before. She later reasoned that it was because she had no false pretences, no agendas, and she could fully appreciate the raccoon for what, if not who, he was. He had her, and the rakish grin that he wore told her he knew it. He continued his unashamed stare, taking in every curl of hair, every fold of dress and most certainly every curve of fox. For the vixen, the lights appeared to dim by some almost unnoticeable degree, and it might have just been her senses becoming overloaded, but it soundly the band had stopped playing. The dancers around her slowly finished their steps, and looked on expectantly. The raccoon continued his slow advance, as if he were in no hurry. After what felt like eons he reached her, and stood just inside what she would normally refer to as her personal space. She dared not breathe. Her entire body tingled. She was unsure of what to do, but she knew that she could not take the suspense any longer.

"May I have this dance?" He whispered, extending his paw.

Time snapped back to normal. The band struck up with the romantic ballad that the raccoon had obviously requested, the dancers respectively swapped partners, decided to sit one out or continued with their partners, and the soft background noise from the bar returned. The vixen faltered for a second on the tail of the racoon's entrance, but she recovered beautifully. She smiled curtly and took his paw in her own. No way was she going to let him know that he affected her this badly, though somehow she couldn't prevent a small shiver when he placed a hand on her waist. He hoped he didn't notice. Around the room, countless men sitting at tables, some smoking cheroots, some sipping whiskey or bourbon, some glaring from behind glasses, some resting their heads on their hands, some staring with abandon, some only taking sly glances, all had the same thought:

"Lucky bastard."

-

Leo dried a cocktail glass and placed it carefully next to its crystal brethren. There wasn't much to do, as at that moment most of the party goers were dancing, or else staring enviously in to the middle of the dance floor. He leaned over the top of the bar and tried to catch a glimpse of what everyone was staring at. It took a few moments, but then he just managed to catch a two second gap between dancers. There was a slinky vixen whom was wrapped around some raccoon guy, who looked like he was trying to be James Bond. Well, he could say what he liked about the raccoon, but it certainly seemed to have wowed the lady he was with, and she was a looker by anyone's standards. Leo sighed deeply. Life just wasn't fair.

"Seen the main attraction, huh?" Malcolm leaned in beside Leo. Malcolm was a average sized wolf, with fur slightly darker than was typical for his species. He had pale blue eyes that always seemed to be able to see Leo's thoughts, and he never missed an opportunity to point this fact out to Leo. Leo himself was a grey cat of quite tall proportions, his emerald eyes betraying more than he would like about his own feelings, which was perhaps why he was always read by Malcolm. They both wore the white shirts with red bow-ties that was the uniform of the bar staff. Still there were no customers, so both friends knew that they were safe in lounging over the bar for a few moments and observing the vixen.

"Why can't I ever get any girls like that?" Leo lamented. "I mean what does she see in him?"

Malcolm threw a sideways glance at his friend.

"You don't want her man. She has a dirty secret."

Leo looked at Malcolm.

"What do you mean?"

"She's a cop."

"Aw, no!" Leo groaned. He took a second look at the vixen. "But she's soo cute!"

"You'll get over her man." Malcolm joked. "Besides, it 'aint just you for once. Every guy in this place is checking her out."

"Yeah, well." Leo mumbled. "What about him, what's his deal?"

"Not sure. I heard he's a cop too, but I dunno man, I never saw him before."

Leo raised his eyebrows in interest. He knew that Malcolm had had dealings with most of the Parisian constabulary in his colourful and varied background, and he was still on first name terms with most of them. That raccoon guy must have been transferred from another city or something. The two bartenders continued to stare at the vixen and raccoon along with most of the room. After a few minutes (or it could have been a little longer, time seemed to flit by like the dancers in front of their vision) there was a light knocking on the service door behind the door. Leo looked back at Malcolm who just shrugged. This had never happened before; they had no idea who it was as they were the only ones who were shifted to work tonight. Leo did a quick look around to check that none of the customers had heard the knocking; if they did they didn't pay any attention to it. He placed his paw lightly on the handle, and once again looked back at his friend. Malcolm shrugged at him a second time, in an encouraging sort of way. Leo tugged the door open lightly and stood back to greet whoever was there. He didn't see anyone at first, until he happened to glance down. There was a small tortoise in a wheelchair and the bar staff uniform sitting in the doorway, looking up at him expectantly. Leo backed up a step, and let his gaze hover on the tortoise for just a second too long. Malcolm joined him at the doorway to see who their guest was.

"Oh, um, hi…" Leo floundered at the disabled tortoise.

"Hi fellas, I'm Bobby, I'm working as the auxiliary bar staff for this evening."

"Oh right, we thought we were the only ones who were on tonight." Malcolm chipped in, backing up to allow Bobby to wheel himself in from the doorway.

"The management hired me as an equal opportunities gesture. You know, 'see the person, not the disability' that whole thing."

"Oh. Well, I'm Leo, that's Malcolm…"

Bobby exchanged brief handshakes with the cat and wolf in turn.

"Er, do you need us to find you some cushions or something, just that…" Leo trailed off, not liking to draw attention to the fact that Bobby was in a wheelchair. He glanced guiltily at the bar top, then back to Bobby, whose eye line was only just level with the surface of the bar. Bobby got the message and smiled, hitting a button on the control pad of his wheelchair. The chair's hidden hydraulics hissed quietly to life, and Bobby ascended like some kind of monster rising from the depths, until he was only a little bit shorter than his co-workers. Malcolm and Leo exchanged impressed looks.

"Looks like we got that one covered." Malcolm said with a shrewd smile. "Well, anyway, I'm not sure there'll be much to do for you, this place closes in two hours, and it seems to have wound down now."

"I can see…" Bobby said, looking out at the crowd of dancers, and in particular the couple dancing at the centre. Malcolm raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, we saw them too."

"Yes, they're quite something…" Bobby said quietly. "Well I'll tell you guys what, seeing as it's quiet and I'd quite like to learn the ropes, why don't I finish up here and you two can get off early?"

Malcolm and Leo looked at each other.

"Er…"

"Could we?"

-

It took Leo and Malcolm all of thirty seconds to decide that getting off two hours early at full pay was indeed a good idea, and after they haphazardly told Bentley what to do with the cash and how to lock up, the small tortoise couldn't see the bartenders for dust.

"Black Russian." A dreary looking hound slumped over the bartop.

"Black Russian." Bentley repeated.

"That's Vodka, Tia Maria and cola." Penelope whispered through Bentley's earpiece.

"Coming right up."

Bentley's knowledge of alcoholic beverages only went so far, but with the help of Penelope and the internet she had access to, he wasn't feeling particularly worried. He quickly mixed the drink, placed it in front of the dog and continued to mop down the bar surface. The dog nodded in thanks, loosened his tie and retreated back to the solitude of his table, drink in hand. The romantic ballad that had been playing came to an end, and in the short time between songs, Bentley was able to get his first good look at Sly and Carmelita.

"Damn it, Sly…" He mumbled.

No wonder every man in the whole place had faces like wet weekends. Bentley had never seen anything particularly special about Carmelita Fox before now, but even he had to admit that the blue haired vixen looked stunning in her deep blue ball gown. As he watched, the fox loosened her grip around Sly's waist by a fraction of an inch, and planted a tender kiss on the raccoon's lips, the kind of kiss that caused frogs to spontaneously combust into princes, just because they _wanted_ it so goddamn badly. The room audibly sighed. Bentley rolled his eyes. As he watched, Sly whispered something into her ear and she smiled and nodded at him, before vanishing off into the crowd to one of the tables near the back of the room. The raccoon then turned on his heel and strode casually towards the bar. He saw Bentley a good few meters before he got there of course, and if he was surprised to see the tortoise there he didn't show it in the slightest. He circled around a few groups of people caught up in their own conversations, and seemed in no hurry to reach the bar. When he finally did get there, he leaned against the top facing away from Bentley.

"I'll take two glasses of the house red please barkeep,"

"Coming right up sir," Bentley replied, who was not about to be outdone when it came to being aloof. He reached for a bottle and deliberately took a long time to open it.

"You know, I was wondering when you'd come looking for me," Sly said, still not turning around.

"Are you surprised?" Bentley fiddled with the bottle opener. "I think there's one or two loose ends that we need to sort out."

Sly turned and looked Bentley in the eye.

"No I'm not," He sighed. "But I don't know what to tell you about loose ends."

"Well, let's start with a simple question." Bentley met his gaze evenly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm a cop now."

"I can see that. I've read the papers. Half the guys in this room will have files three inches think on you."

"Keep it down," Sly cautioned. "And no they don't. Thanks to Carmelita officially I'm dead. I died in that cave in with Dr. M. She doesn't know I know that."

The tortoise kept his expression neutral.

"Why wouldn't she know that…?"

Sly avoided his friend's eyes.

"She thinks I really believe I'm a cop. I faked amnesia."

Bentley closed his eyes.

"I figured it was something like that."

"You gotta understand man, I only had seconds to make a decision. What was I supposed to do? She would have arrested me."

"And in the meantime you leave the rest of us high and dry, is that it?"

"I left you the Cooper family fortune," Sly said, the anger rising in his voice.

"To what end, Sly?" The tortoise's own rage simmering. "What the hell were we supposed to do with it? It took Penelope and I months to secure it."

"I thought it'd make up for leaving…" Sly's indignation deserting him.

"Look, if you don't want to be a thief anymore, that's fine. But you gotta know, we spent years trying to track that fortune down, and then months planning the downfall of Dr. M, we all risked life and limb - all for you. And then when we finally get there, you just give it away? It doesn't work like that. You may as well have just let Dr. M keep it."

The raccoon was stunned into silence. After a long pause during which Bentley poured one of the glasses of wine he'd requested, he said:

"Look, I didn't mean it to go down like that. But when I was about to be crushed by that beast, there was only one person on my mind. I realized that I may never get to see her again, and that…that hurt more than anything. And then she saves my life, and I get one chance to be with her. I had to take it. You must have felt the same thing when Penelope was captured."

Now it was Bentley's turn to avert his gaze. His friend's words struck a chord.

"I guess I can understand that."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean you any guys any disrespect."

"I know, I know." Bentley sighed. "But seriously, how long do you think you can keep this charade with Carmelita going? She's going to find out one way or the other."

Sly stared at the floor.

"You gotta tell her you remember. Then for God's sake come and claim some of your family's fortune. After that, if you still wanna be a cop, I won't hold it against you."

"What if she arrests me?"

"Just tell her you love her."

"You reckon?"

"Works for me."

Sly smiled at his friend as he finished pouring the second glass of wine.

"On the house."

"Thanks man. You're a true friend. I'll contact you in a day or two, yeah?"

"My address is on the napkin," Bentley glanced down at the piece of paper he'd set the glasses on.

Sly nodded at his lifetime friend. Under different circumstances, he would have hugged him, but it wasn't the time or place. Sly picked up the glasses and offered Bentley a simple nod. The tortoise understood the weight behind the gesture and nodded back. He watched Sly as he disappeared into the crowd, then smiled and continued to mop down the bar.

-

Sly hugged Carmelita close. She let out a contented sigh, and for a moment Sly was scared he'd accidentally woken her. However, she simply pushed herself slightly into his hug and continued sleeping. A light breeze blew through the French windows, causing the inspector's drapes to billow into the room, weightless silky ghosts. Sly stared at Carmelita's body, as it rose and fell with her breathing. Only her nightdress separated them, but her warmth and her natural perfumed scent permeated the whole room, a constant reminder to the smitten raccoon, that this is where he wanted to be; where he was _supposed_ to be.

And yet nagging doubts kept coming back to him, penetrating his brain, sending unwanted messages to his limbs, conspiring to tear him from his own personal heaven and send him careening back into his old life, where the closest he ever got to Carmelita was when she arrested him. He told himself for months that he had nothing to feel guilty about, but his one brief meeting with Bentley had shown him with shocking clarity just the extent of his own self delusion. Now that he thought back, was he interested in the Cooper fortune at all? Did he really want it as his birthright, or did he simply _not want_ Dr. M to have it? Similarly, he wondered if the crimes he had committed towards the end of his career as a thief were for money or the thrill of the kudos, or if they were simply a means to an end, specifically getting closer to Carmelita? He knew that they hadn't used to be. When did he turn into a lovesick idiot? And, if that were true, why hadn't he given up his thievery sooner? He could have saved everyone a lot of pain and effort if he'd just made his intentions clear from the start.

'_Ah,_' a little voice in his head said, '_but who knows what might have happened if you hadn't almost been killed? And what if Carmelita hadn't given you the fine 'Cop' opportunity? You might've ended up still with the team, still giving Carmelita the run around. Funny what near death experiences will do for you, eh?_'

Funny indeed. Sly smoothed down Carmelita's luxurious purple hair with his free hand. He wouldn't change things even if he could, not for all the fortunes in the world. It felt so good! To have his feelings with Carmelita out in the open! And, having done that, to discover that she felt the same way! He'd always suspected, but…

He breathed in the cool night air, breathed in her sweet breath, breathed her in in gulps, getting as much of her as he could. His stomach tingled with exquisite electricity, a greater thrill than any job he'd ever pulled. But even now he knew that he had to square things with Bentley, and for that matter the other members of the team. He sighed. There was no way he was getting to sleep now.

Very carefully, with the care that one might apply when performing brain surgery on a loved one, Sly slid his arm out from underneath Carmelita, then slowly shifted his weight away from her. She didn't stir. Sly paused to cast one loving glance back in her direction before lifting off the bed. There was plenty of light to see be because of the full moon and the faint glow of the city around them. He located the jacket he'd been wearing earlier, and as he lifted it off the chair he caught sight of his gun holster on the chair. Standard issue berretta, for all officers of the law in Paris. He'd never got used to carrying it; he hated the feeling of the heavy uncomfortable chunk of metal knocking against his chest whenever he walked anywhere, but if he was going to be a cop he had to act like one. He'd never so much as held a gun before, let alone fired one, but all the same, there it was, glinting in the moonlight, waiting patiently for him to ease it from its snug leather sheath and unleash it on the world. Sly scowled at the weapon. He was feeling quite wired at that moment. There was no other explanation for the theatrics. He dressed quickly, looking like what he hoped was smart yet casual, and stepped out onto the balcony. They were on the second floor, and the street was a good thirty feet down. There was a streetlight just below him, maybe twenty feet tall, casting its yellow haze up at him, and in all other directions.

Sly somersaulted off the balcony, fell ten feet, grabbed onto the lamppost, and slid down it like a fireman's pole, spinning around it as he did so. He hit the pavement with a light thud on the soles of his feet. He glanced up, quite pleased with his decent. He might have left his cane for Bentley and the others to find, but he was far from out of tricks. A couple a little way up the street made sounds of awe. Sly gave them a slight bow, then trotted, whistling, in the direction of Bentley's apartment. Now that he had a solid game plan he felt much better. He'd make sure he did right by Bentley and the others, then come clean with Carmelita. He didn't want to be overly confident, but something told him she'd treat him with leniency. Especially when he told her that he'd be willing to give it all up for her. The raccoon's whistling grew louder.

-

Bentley awoke with a start, the noise of the apartment's buzzer fresh in his ears.

"Mrph. Shud stuppid nois off." A petite mousey voice said quietly from the darkness next to him. He blinked rapidly, trying to get his head together. He hoisted himself from the bed and into his chair that sat next to it, and groggily navigated it past assorted clothes and debris that peppered the floor, and into the dim hallway. The buzzer went again. In the back of his mind a faint spark of worry glowed. If this was Interpol performing a night time raid, they could have problems. He was pretty sure that none of the officers at the ball had made him, but if they had he'd have a tough time explaining the countless stolen goods in the apartment, not to mention how to explain where his recent windfall had come from. He crossed the living room area, pausing only to lift his dressing gown from the back of one of the chairs since he was only in his underwear. 'Ask to see a warrant,' he told himself. 'If that fails, smoke bomb the hell out of the place, grab Penelope and leg it.'

They could always hide at the vault for a few hours if it came to that. The sheer volume of the Cooper fortune prevented himself and Penelope from keeping it at the apartment, but it was safe. He doubted even Sly could get through the security system he'd set up. He reached the intercom on the wall next to the door and pressed the talk button.

"I'm up. And I warn you, this had better be spectacularly important."

"Bentley, it's Sly."

The tortoise hung his head. He should've known.

"Should've known. Come on up."

He pressed the door unlock button and opened his front door so it was ajar, then wheeled his chair back to the bedroom to get some clothes on.

"What's going on?" Penelope asked when he entered.

"Sly's here. You go back to sleep."

"Oh," She yawned. Then she smiled, "You and your friends."

"Tell me about it."

-

Sly found the front door to Bentley's apartment slightly open, and tapped on it lightly before sticking his head around. He couldn't see anyone.

"Hello?" he called softly as he entered the room. Then he saw Bentley coming from the room directly opposite him, past the little kitchen/living room combo area and right at the back of the apartment. His friend closed the door over behind him, so they wouldn't wake Penelope Sly supposed. Likewise, Sly closed the front door behind him with a soft click.

"Hi," he smiled apologetically.

"What happened to 'I'll contact you in a day or two'?" Bentley mock frowned.

"Yeah, I uh…I couldn't sleep."

"Well, what a coincidence, neither could I," Bentley deadpanned as he wheeled himself over to the fridge. He opened the door and began to rummage around inside.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Sly fidgeted.

"Ah, forget about it," His disabled pal called from somewhere past the stuffed olives and Swiss cheese. "It's not like I have to go to work or anything."

"Yeah I suppose." Sly mused.

"Yep, for everything I said earlier, I must say your family fortune has been keeping Pen and myself extremely well." He said, emerging from the fridge with a carton of orange juice. "I hope you don't mind. We've barely scratched the surface, there's enough moolah in there for several hundred lifetimes."

"Not at all." The raccoon grinned. "As far as I'm concerned you've earned every single penny of it."

Bentley returned his smile and poured himself a glass of juice.

"You want anything?" He offered. "I think we have coke, lemonade, juice…"

"Coke sounds good."

Bentley rooted around in the fridge, located a can and tossed it to Sly. Sly cracked it open and slurped at it quickly to stop it spraying everywhere. Bentley indicated for him to take a seat in the sofa a few feet away from him in the living area. Sly did so, and Bentley parked himself nearby next to an armchair.

"It's good to see you. I didn't get a chance to say so earlier."

The raccoon smiled.

"It's good to see you too. That's partly why I came over tonight."

"I'm glad you did. It probably could've waited till morning, but never mind that now."

"I've been thinking about the money," Sly said, placing his coke can carefully on a glass coffee table in front of him. Bentley was horrified at the lack of a coaster, but said nothing.

"Yeah? Have you reached any conclusions?"

"Well, since you and Penelope have secured it, I think it would be bad to move it all now."

"Yeeeeees…" The tortoise mused.

"And since as you say, there's enough there for several hundred lifetimes…"

"Where are you going with this?"

"Lets just keep it as a communal fortune, yeah? We'll all know the combination to the safe, and any of us can dip into it when we need to."

Bentley remained silent for a few seconds.

"That's not a bad idea." He said, finally. Sly cracked into a large grin.

"Groovy. You can give me the combination. Did the rest of the team take any money?"

"Uh, Dimitri took some. He bought a boat with it. I got a postcard from him, he says hi."

"Fair enough. Anyone else?"

"The Panda King and the Guru wouldn't take any. We offered, but Panda King said his honour was served and he wouldn't taint it with mere fiscal rewards. Or something. The Guru said he wouldn't have any use for it anyway."

"Could've guessed that." Sly said nodding.

"Murray claimed some." Bentley said, looking up.

"Murray, how is he? What's he doing now?" Sly said looking up, slightly embarrassed that he hadn't already asked about their mutual friend.

"Well, he finished off his training with the Guru, then he came back and used his share of the money to soop up the van. He's been racing all over the world. Gained quite a following I understand."

"Wow," Sly commented, "I'm glad he took some. Seems like he's doing exactly what he wants to do."

"He keeps coming back," Bentley added. "He's written off his van seven times since he started. He's set a new record for surviving crashes that would disintegrate lesser drivers."

"Damn," Sly raised his eyebrows. "Oh well. As long as he's happy. Where is he right now?"

"I think he's in Louisiana right now. There was an off road course he was keen to try."

Sly took a deep swig from his can.

"I'm glad you're cool with my idea. It's far too much for one thief."

"It's a good idea Sly. It's probably the fairest way of doing things. I just didn't want you to not have any of your own families money. That and I wanted to see you again."

There was a brief few seconds of silence whist the two friends thought. Bentley's frank honesty had deeply touched Sly, but he couldn't say anything because that would be girly. Sly was happy that Bentley had agreed to his plan, and so contented himself to just drink his coke. Bentley squirmed slightly before he spoke again.

"Have you…had any thoughts about what you want to do next?"

Sly sighed slightly. He sensed that that question coming a mile off, but he still didn't have a solid answer for it.

"I'm not sure. I've got enough money now to give up being a thief, but I'm not sure if I can keep up being a cop. I guess I'll just have to see."

"Well, no pressure mate," Bentley leaned over and patted him on the shoulder. "Just as long as you still keep in touch."

"Course I will. I'll be over all the time."

Bentley snorted a laugh. Sly returned his smile.

"You know," Bentley started, "Next week is quite a special date for you."

"What? Is it?"

"Yes, it is."

"What is it?"

"Your birthday you fool." He paused. "Well, the day we suppose is your birthday anyway."

"Eh? Oh…oh yes. God, is it September already?"

"Your modesty moves me, Sly."

"How did you remember if even I can't? We used to celebrate each other's birthdays most weekends when we first started out."

"Well, this is the official date we settled on. My computer reminded me actually."

"Figures. Well thanks for telling me, I'll have to remember to get drunk and have a sandwich."

Bentley shook his head despairingly.

"Look, why don't you come around here? I'll get a hold of Murray on the wire and see if I can get him down here, it'll be a blast!"

"Yeah, wow, thanks, that'd be great!" The raccoon beamed. "Should be a good laugh!"

"You can even bring that 'cop' woman you hang around with if you must." Bentley added.

"Thank you," Sly feigned annoyance. "We'll have to see how my little talk with her goes first though."

Bentley nodded at his long time friend. Sly finished off his can and set the empty back down on the table.

"Well, I've hassled you for long enough. I'll get going and you can get some sleep."

"Hang on a moment," Bentley said, wheeling himself around, over to a dark corner of the room where there stood a chest of drawers. "I've been hanging onto these since you left, I expect you'll be wanting them back."

Bentley dragged the bottom drawer open and pulled out a bundle of what looked like clothes. The bundle was blue, and Sly could detect what looked like gold poking out at one end. His face split into yet another smile. Bentley saw the look on his face.

"Yeah, I figured you'd want me to keep it for you."

He handed the raccoon his old cane. Sly unwrapped it from what turned out to be his spare blue shirt and cap, as well as his red leg holster for loot. He lifted the cane out of it's wrappings like it was the Turin shroud. He ran his hand over the polished wood, gently stroking his trademark accessory, his weapon of choice, his tool of the trade. It had dragged him out of several life threatening situations, and it was fair to say that he wouldn't have achieved half as much without it. He found its balancing point, close to the gold plated question mark head and spun it into a blur. It was completely flawless, as ever. He flicked it in the air, let it slide over his shoulder down his back, kicked it back up with the sole of his foot and caught it with his other hand.

"Show off," Bentley commented.

"Just glad to have it back," Sly said happily. He paused as a wicked idea oozed into his frontal lobe. "Say, before I leave, can I use your bathroom?"

-

The thief sped over the rooftop, hopping over skylights and somersaulting over TV aerials. He reached the end of the building and jumped off it without the slightest hesitation. Halfway down his decent the head of his cane made contact with a wrought iron light fixture and he used all his momentum to swing back up and onto the roof of the next building. He hit the deck, rolled twice and fell ten feet onto the lower roof. He hit the ground running and within seconds was shimmying up a drainpipe of the building opposite. It felt so good to be back out on the rooftops! Now that he was here, doing it, he wondered how he ever thought he could give it all up. There was no way he was ever going to be able to turn his back on this thrill. He reached the corner of his next building and perched there for a moment, like a particularly cheeky gargoyle whilst he got his bearings. This way. He jumped, landing with pin-point accuracy on the top of a telegraph pole, before running along the wire at an impossible speed. From up here, he could already see his destination, the French windows still open, the curtains still billowing inwards. The light wasn't on, so there was a chance she was still asleep. The thief grinned. One more spire jump off another telegraph pole and he was on the wire that would take him right to her building. He ran. The thought of her put a charge in his belly and air in his limbs, letting him run even lighter than usual. He felt as though he could become a being of pure electricity, and zap along the phone line right to her. In less time than it takes to read that last cliché, he was outside on her balcony. He spun his cane around in his hand in triumph and grinned widely, he couldn't help it. The beautiful creature in the bed hadn't stirred at all at his arrival, as he had alighted as softly as a songbird on the smooth polished marble of the balcony. He crept around her bed, careful not make a sound. He retreated to the back of the room into the shadows, where the moonlight wouldn't reach. He spied his keys glinting on a side table in the gloom, near the front door, and with one swift fluid movement, he swept them to the floor. The jangling sound reverberated around the solid room, and the figure in the bed sat bolt upright, instantly alert and prepared for the worst. A quick glance to her side told her that her lover was gone, although her sleeping senses had told her that much; these days her bed was just somehow _wrong_ without him beside her. She narrowed her eyes. The thief swore she passed her gaze right over him, but she apparently saw nothing.

"Sly?" She called tentatively into the darkness with a Latina purr. Not yet. Not quite. A few more seconds."

"Sly?" She tried more forcefully, this time reaching for her bedside drawer where the thief knew for a fact that she kept her shock pistol. Now.

He stepped from the shadows into her field of sight. Her hand froze on the handle of the drawer. She took in his bold blue uniform and clashing red holster, his smart cap that matched his shirt and his enigmatic black facemask. She allowed her gaze to linger over his broad chest and manly yet elegant hands that were ensconced in flawless blue gloves, and she found herself drawn to his handsome angular face, with it's boyish looks and cheeky grin. She drew a sharp intake of breath.

"Sly?" She repeated, this time out of surprised than concern. The thief's eyes sparkled with an intensity that she remembered from the ballroom, the same intensity she lost herself in. The raccoon simply grinned wider, before producing a rose from nowhere, and approaching her, placed it tenderly in her hair just in front of her ear. That done, he leant in to her and kissed her passionately on the lips. She stiffened for the tiniest of moments, as if unsure what to do, but she softened almost instantly and returned his kiss with vigour. After a couple of seconds in which universes formed and died, they parted. He grinned sheepishly at her. She returned his smile, but hers was different, narrowed eyes, bared teeth, almost…predatory. The raccoon's expression shifted to puzzlement.

"Wh-"

She grabbed him roughly by the shirt, and yanked him down on top of her. Hard.

-

Author's notes:

Well, here's the first chapter. A bit crowd pleasing, but it had to happen sooner or later. Now it's done, we can all just move on. Still, hope you liked it, and there'll be more chapters in this story soon. I'm sure I'll be as surprised by what happens as everybody else. Thanks for reading!


	2. Sleeping With the Enemy

Sly awoke to the soft warm rays of the midday sun. He stretched out his arms and legs and yawned loudly. He hadn't bothered to open his eyes yet, and was seriously considering rolling over and going back to sleep. Maybe even hibernating. Then he had a sudden thought. Something very cool had happened last night and his sleep dulled mind hadn't quite remembered what it was yet. He smiled to himself, quite enjoying the memory loss. It was funny, but forgetting something momentarily can be pleasant if you know that it's something good. There was a feminine groan from the bed next to him, the kind of noise made by someone waking up. Sly stuck out his hand to the person next to him and squeezed.

"Mm. Lo."

He opened his eyes. Next to him lay Detective Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox of Interpol, covered only by a thin bed sheet. Oh yeah. That was it.

Sly had grabbed her thigh, as she was lying on her side away from him, curled up in a foetal position. He beamed. This…this _was_ good. No, this was better than good. This made good look like being mugged at gunpoint for your shoes. This defied description. This was as if the universe and all of its creators had secretly conspired to give Sly Cooper the best morning in the entire world. It was all he could do not to burst out laughing and run around the apartment screaming. Maybe later.

"Can I fix you some breakfast?" he whispered to…well, let's go out on a limb here, his _girlfriend_. Just thinking that made his stomach do somersaults.

"Yes, pls," Carmelita mumbled from the bed.

"Okay then," Sly replied, finding it surprisingly hard to talk through the large cheesy grin that was threatening to cleave his face in half. He swore his cheeks were actually beginning to ache.

He turned to leave, then, on a whim, paused for a moment to lift his end of the bed sheet to peek on Carmelita.

"Awesome."

Suitably impressed with the sight that greeted him, he left the sheet alone and pulled on his old thieving shirt from the night before. Then he wandered into Carmelita's kitchen and began to ferret around in her fridge. He'd been with Carmelita for a few months now, but this morning was different. It was the first time that he'd been truly honest with her since the start of their romantic tryst. He plucked a carton of orange juice from the fridge and then danced over to the breadbin and stuffed two slices into the toaster. As he watched the chromed appliance slowly singe the bread, he reflected that he hadn't actually told Carmelita that he remembered his thieving roots. Not per se. They hadn't really talked much at all last night - Sly tugged at his collar - but he thought the visual explanation had been enough, at least for then. He supposed he should really elaborate a bit more this morning. He stared hard at his reflection in the toaster; it was strangely warped, making him look like he had a gigantic head. He hoped Carmelita wouldn't be mad at him. Still, he could tell her that they were both now technically multi-millionaires, so he supposed that that would take the edge off the fact that he lied about his amnesia. The toast popped up, and Sly dug around in one of the cupboards for the jam, and then went back to the fridge to retrieve the butter. It was as he was closing the door on the chilly food store that he felt warm sensuous hands encircle him from behind and rest seductively on his chest. He beamed once again. He glanced over his shoulder.

"Hello," He smiled.

"Hello ringtail," Carmelita smiled shrewdly at him. She hadn't called him that since she was trying to arrest him.

"Breakfast's nearly ready,"

"Hmm, that's good." Carmelita groaned happily, tightening her grip around her raccoon.

Sly made to move to the toaster, but found that Carmelita wasn't moving with him. He made to move again, hoping she'd get the message, but the Vixen remained rock steady.

"Uh…I can't…I can't make it with you attached to me…"

"Oh no!" Carmelita feigned, not surrendering her grip on Sly in the slightest.

"Well, um…"

"We have a small problem here ringtail," Carmelita cut him off, an edge entering her voice. "You see, you appear to have got your memories back. I don't know how, but I'll bet one of your little cronies had something to do with it."

"Carmelita, I…"

The fox squeezed Sly's chest harder, cutting off the raccoon's words and making it hard for him to breathe.

"So what was your plan, huh? A final trip back here for a goodbye kiss and then you're off into the night sky, and I'm left with nothing but a flower and one of those damn raccoon shaped calling cards?"

Sly twisted around to try and look Carmelita in the face. He only managed to turn around so far, all he could see of her was a portion of her sleep dishevelled blue hair and a single teary eye. He noticed that she was wearing her checked dressing gown.

"Carmelita, I swear, it isn't like that." Sly managed to choke out.

"Oh yeah? I'll bet you wouldn't have stayed last night at all if I hadn't…you know…"

Sly cocked his head in a nod. He did indeed know.

"No! I would have stayed anyway. I swear!"

"Why? Because you were expecting to get lucky, huh?"

"No, no…I stayed…hell, I stayed because I love you."

Carmelita's grip loosened almost instantly. Bentley had been right.

"What?"

"You heard me," The raccoon sighed, "I love you."

He turned around in Carmelita's arms to come face to face with her, since her grip was now loose enough for him to do so. The vixen was quite choked up; the poor Inspector must really have thought that the second Sly's memories were back he'd be out the door.

"But…but I thought…"

"And my memories haven't come back, Carmelita," Sly continued evenly. "They never left me. I faked the whole thing."

"You faked the – Why?" Carmelita stared at him in disbelief through a mask of tears.

"It started out as a kind of joke; I wanted to see what you'd do if I said I'd lost my memory. But when you gave me the chance to become a cop; to become your partner – I had to take it. It might've been the last chance I had to be with you."

"You gave up being a thief and the Cooper family fortune…for me?" Carmelita gasped, openly crying.

"Yep." Sly nodded. "Worth every penny."

"Oh Sly!" Carmelita hugged the racoon twice as hard as she had done a minute ago. "I love you too! That's why I said you were a cop! I've wanted to be with you for so long!"

She cried into Sly's shoulder as the ex-thief gasped for air.

"Sorry…Carmelita…Can't…breathe!"

"Oo, sorry." She sniffled in his ear and released her grip a bit.

"Look, I swear I'm never gonna leave you." Sly said, planting a kiss on Carmelita's lips. "As far as I'm concerned this is right where I want to be. I'll even stay on as a cop if it'll make you happy."

Carmelita looked up at him and smiled the happiest smile he'd ever seen her make. She kissed him again, this time deeper and more passionately.

"Wanna scratch breakfast?" Sly asked. Carmelita nodded, and let out a small cry as Sly unexpectedly scooped her up in his arms, and marched purposefully back towards the bedroom.

-

"Well, that was quite unexpected," the Vixen sighed a little while later.

They were both back in the bed, lying on their sides, facing each other, once again covered with the bed sheet. It was starting to look like they might never be able to get up and rejoin society. The sunlight continued to blaze into the room brightly, making the air in the room hot and humid. The sheets on the bed clung to the animals' fur like a liquid, and they grinned at each other like Cheshire cats; tired but very, very happy.

"Sorry if I was a bit emotional earlier." She added.

"That's okay," Sly replied. "I should have told you sooner, I just didn't want to rock the boat."

"It's just that I really thought you were going to run away."

"Nah, I couldn't do that. I'd miss you."

Carmelita giggled and toyed girlishly with a curl of her purple hair. It was a side to the inspector that Sly had never seen before, and it served as a visual reminder that he still had so much to learn about Carmelita.

"So would you really have arrested me if I'd tried to leave?" Sly grinned.

"I guess so."

"Well, I guess that's an incentive for me to stay then, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," Carmelita purred as the pair leaned in to steal yet another kiss.

"What I want to know is, what made you tell me now?"

The racoon frowned and glaced away. He still wasn't particularly proud of the way he'd handled the situation, either with his former team or Carmelita.

"Ah, I ran into Bentley last night," Sly admitted. "He made me realise a few things."

"Yeah, I figured it was something like that." The inspector placed a comforting hand on Sly's arm.

"I woke up to the fact that I still owed him and the rest of the team a few things, and that I wanted to be honest with you."

"Aw, Sly. You're sweet."

"We've decided to share the loot evenly…"

The vixen's expression hardened.

"Wait…loot? You mean the Cooper fortune? Bentley has it?"

"Um, yeah, I've been meaning to mention that. Bentley secured it after we left the island, and now we're all going to share it. Technically I'm a multi-millionaire."

"Damnit Sly!" Carmelita exclaimed. "Why'd you have to go and tell me that?"

"What? Why, I thought you'd be pleased!" The raccoon exclaimed.

"No, that entire fortune was stolen! I'm supposed to report it! I'll have this playing on my conscience now…"

"Aw come on honey, most of that fortune was stolen before either of us were even born, and all of it has been stolen from criminals or bad people."

"Eh? It was? How do you know that?"

"It's the code of the Coopers," Sly said, moving to lie contentedly on his back.

"The code of the Coopers?" Carmelita repeated, calming down somewhat and moving beside Sly and draping her arm over his chest and her leg over his.

"Yeah, one of our first codes of practice is that we only ever rip off other thieves, or else people that had it coming." Sly replied dreamily.

"I didn't know you had a code," Carmelita said. "I thought you were just a thief, albeit a very good one."

Sly glanced down at the beauty of a fox draped over him.

"Ah, you have much to learn, young Carmelita."

"You're a smartass, ringtail."

-

"Well, this is the firing range," Inspector Fox said, sweeping through the door to the sterile room. The range was basically a large corridor stretching down about fifty feet, with square window holes in the wall at regular intervals the whole way down. These holes opened out into a large open area, with targets lined up at the far end in line with the holes. They were attached to electrical pulley systems so the officers could retrieve their targets. There were small tables next to each window for ammunition and spare guns. The air inside was crisp and cool, laced with the slightest twinge of grease and gunpowder. Constable Cooper stepped inside nervously behind the DI.

"Uh, I'm not too sure about this, Carm- Inspector Fox…" he said, glancing at the floor.

"Now, Constable Cooper, all Interpol law enforcers are expected to maintain at least a competent proficiency with small arms."

"Yeah, but…"

Sly turned the bulky, heavy, uncomfortable revolver over in his hand. He didn't like guns; there was no way around it. He didn't like being near them, and he had no desire to shoot one at all. How on earth some people could do this for _fun_ was beyond him.

"Just line yourself up at this window here."

Nervously Sly did as he was told, and stared at the target at the back of the room. It looked tiny from where he was. How the hell was he supposed to hit that?

"We've got you Interpol's standard revolver. Most officers carry automatics these days, but this is better for you since they're easier to maintain and there's less parts to jam up on you."

Sly looked at the weapon in his hand. Guns could jam? You learn something every day he guessed.

"Right, now just raise it up at arm's length in front of you with both hands, and line up the sight at the front of the gun with the sight at the back. You got it?"

Sly once again followed what Inspector Fox had said as closely as possible. He raised the gun in front of him. This position caused his suit jacket to puff up at the shoulders, and the material brushed the fur of his cheeks. He felt faintly ridiculous.

"Good. Now flick off the safety-"

After a moment's fumbling Sly managed to actually _locate_ the safety catch and flick it off.

"Take a deep breath-"

Sly inflated his lungs.

"And when you're ready, gently squeeze off a shot."

Sly held in his breath and stared hard down the line of his sights. They were all over the place, wobbling all over the target and most of the surrounding wall. Sly knew bitterly that if he had been holding his cane instead of a gun his grip would be perfect. He waited for the instant when he supposed his sights were more over the target, and fired. He missed. By quite a lot. A bulled hole appeared in the wall a good meter to the left of the target.

"That'll happen the first few times." Inspector Fox smiled. "Here, let me help you."

The inspector came up behind Cooper and placed her hands over his. Her head was right next to his, and Constable Cooper could feel her body pressing into his back and her breath on his cheek. He closed his eyes for a second, savouring the moment. Inspector Fox raised his hands, and the gun, and levelled it at the target. Sly tried to relax as much as possible as the Inspector guided his aim with barely perceptible nuances. He tried hard not to think of Carmelita as his girlfriend whilst he was at work. Here she was Inspector Fox. Even is she was wearing her usual outfit consisting of a brown khaki jacket that was worn open over the top of a zip up strapless top, bare midriff and tighter than tight jeans. God, it drove him up the wall…

"There, that should do it."

"Huh? Oh, right."

Sly pulled back gently on the trigger, and the bullet hit the target just below the bull's-eye.

"There, you see! All you need is a little practice." Carmelita spoke directly into the raccoon's ear. He wasn't convinced, but he nodded all the same.

"Do you want me to show you?" She asked pulling away, much to the raccoon's disappointment.

"Uh, yeah, okay. That might help." He replied, somewhat flustered.

The vixen nodded, and gestured for him to step out of the way. Constable Cooper did so, and the DI took his place. She pulled her automatic from her shoulder holster and pointed it one handed at the target. She barely paused before she began firing and within the space of two seconds she'd fired off five shots. Constable Cooper could only look on in awe as she thumbed the target retrieval button, and the paper cut out whirred back to their window. Sly looked at the target closely. The bull's-eye had been completely obliterated. He could still see the small hole where Inspector Fox had helped him hit the target, but he couldn't separate the DI's shots at all. They were so close together that they formed one large ragged hole.

"Wow," Sly breathed. He always knew Carmelita was an outstanding shot, but it was still impressive to see categorically just how good she was. Just as he was finished scrutinising the target, the door to the firing range opened.

"DI Fox?" The young officer asked entering the room. He was a pearly white eagle in an ill-fitting sergeant's uniform, and looked like he was fresh out of the academy.

"Hello," Carmelita said from behind Sly, returning her gun to its holster.

"Chief wants to see you." He said simply, then left as quickly as he'd entered.

Constable Cooper shot a worried glance at his partner, but DI Fox kept her expression neutral. She had no idea why the chief wanted to see her.

"You'll be ok practicing by yourself here for a little while right?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so."

"Right. Well, I'll go and see what the chief wants, and then -" She said checking her watch, "It should be about time for us to clock off."

She turned and strode out of the door, leaving Sly alone in the large range. The raccoon shrugged and pulled out his revolver fro a second time and had a go at firing it just as Carmelita had done. The shot went into the ceiling of the range.

"Damn it."

-

Carmelita approached the frosted glass window in the door of the Chief's office and rapped on it lightly with her knuckles. A muffled call of 'Come in!" was heard within the office, and she eased the door open and leaned her head around it.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Ah, Inspector Fox. Yes, take a seat."

Carmelita entered the room and padded over the faded green carpet to the creaky wooden chair that sat opposite the head of their precinct. She sat down lightly on the protesting chair, and waited patiently for the chief to explain why he'd wanted to see her. She let her eyes drift around the room as she waited. The office was pretty run down with age; the chief didn't really hold the upkeep of his own office in the highest regard. There was a book shelf behind the desk that ran the length of the room that was crammed with old police reports, files, and books on crime and detective methods. The chief's desk was a battered polished oak writing desk, not that you could see much of its surface. Practically the entire top was covered with recent crime reports, odd memos, mug shots and confessions. An in-tray lurked at the far corner, and was threatening to spew its papery contents all over the floor. A weathered computer sat just to the right of the chief, it's monitor pointing away from her. It whirred softly and blew warm air into the room. The desk's only extravagance was a silver picture frame which sat just in front of the Chief, also with its back to the Inspector. A wire wastebasket sat on the floor beside the desk and it too was full to bursting point of scrunched up paper balls. Behind Carmelita there was a rubber plant in a terracotta pot that looked like it might be the only thing in the whole office that was well looked after. Finally there was the chief, a diminutive bearded dog with a fiery temperament and who regularly enjoyed smoking cigars. He was sitting in a patchy antique leather swivel chair, and was carefully picking over a police report. With a twinge of fear Carmelita realised that it was her report on the Dr. M island destruction.

"I was just reading your report here, Inspector Fox."

"Yes sir," She replied, the fear chilling the pit of her stomach.

"It makes for some interesting reading. I just have one small question."

"Sir?"

"Do you take me for an idiot?" He asked, leaning back in his chair and pulling a cigar from the top drawer of his desk.

Carmelita swallowed hard. He knew!

"No sir."

"This report says that the infamous criminal Sly Cooper was 'most likely' buried alive with the island's cave in, is that correct?" He chief said slowly, taking a long drag on his cigar.

"Yes sir."

"And now less than six months since that incident, you, Carmelita Fox, the Inspector who has always had to be assigned partners in the past, voluntarily nominate a constable from another precinct by the name of Constable Cooper. So I'll ask you again: Do you take me for an idiot?"

"A mere coincidence, sir." Lie! Carmelita's mind screamed. Lie your ass off!

"Coincidence." The Chief sighed. "Constable Sly Cooper? That's one hell of a coincidence, Inspector Fox."

Carmelita remained silent as the Chief's eyes bored into her own.

"Tell me, Inspector, for how long were you working the Cooper case?"

"For the better part of four years sir." Carmelita sighed inwardly.

"Four years. You must have had to get right inside his head to chase him for so long. I ask you, Inspector, did you get in a little too deep?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question, sir."

"Oh, I think you do." The chief rose from his chair and paced around his desk towards Carmelita. She didn't rise, just followed him with her eyes. She was sweating with fear at this point, but she hoped it wasn't showing too much. Was she going to be arrested?

The Chief's next words surprised her.

"Carmelita, I used to be a street walking cop, you know. I was an officer, a constable, a DI, and finally -" he gestured to himself, "Chief. I know a thing or two about detection. And I know what's going on here."

Carmelita was unsure what to do. She's been a part of countless interrogations and confessions, so she knew that the Chief was just putting pressure on her. All the same…

"Am I to understand that I'm under suspicion of perverting the course of justice, sir?" She chose her words very carefully, so as not to imply guilt. The Chief smiled wryly.

"You don't have to speak like that. We're talking off the record here, Carmelita."

The Inspector breathed a sigh of relief.

"Besides, I don't technically have anything to charge you with anyway. All of 'Constable Cooper's' references checked out."

Carmelita glanced away and thanked her lucky stars that her contacts had managed to deliver the goods on forged documents.

"Look, all suspicions aside, you're one of the finest police officers I have. You've always been dedicated, resourceful, trustworthy and above all, very, very talented. I just wanted us to have this little chat so I could tell you this: Be very, very careful Carmelita. This department can't afford a scandal on this scale, and if this all blows up in your face I can't be seen to be lenient with you."

"I understand, Sir." Carmelita breathed deeply. The old dog let his gaze linger on the Inspector for a few moments longer.

"Well, I'll ask you then. Are all aspects of this report correct and true, to the best of your knowledge?"

There was a long silence in which Carmelita stared at her shoes. Finally she replied:

"Yes sir."

The Chief nodded sagely and fished around in his drawer for a rubber stamp and an ink palette.

"In that case," He said, dipping the stamp on the ink palette and bringing it down onto the file, "This case is closed."

Carmelita looked up, as the Chief handed the file over to her.

"Good job Inspector Fox." He said.

Carmelita sat in a stunned silence for a few moments. Did she have this correctly? Was the Chief actually saying that he knew Sly Cooper was alive, and he was willing to turn a blind eye to it? She stared at him dumbfounded, and after a few seconds accepted the file he was offering.

"That'll be all Inspector." The Chief said curtly, making a note of something on a pad.

Carmelita tucked the file under her arm and strode towards the door. As her hand was on the handle, the Chief spoke again.

"I know what it is to be in Love, Carmelita,"

The DI turned to look back at her superior. He was looking at the picture within the silver frame.

"That's why I'm letting you get away with this one." He looked up to her with a smile.

Carmelita cracked a small smile of her own.

"Thank you sir."

She opened the door and strode from the room to rejoin her partner.

-

Sly sat in the passenger seat as Carmelita revved the engine impatiently at the lights. The rain dripped merrily down the car's windshield in mini waterfalls and splatters. The car's engine only partially drowned out the constant pattering sound. Sly glanced at Carmelita.

"How'd the meeting with the chief go?" he asked tentatively.

"Well, he knows that you're the infamous thief Sly Cooper, that's for sure." Carmelita said casually, as she turned right at the lights.

"What!" Sly blurted out.

"Yep that's what I almost said." She replied equally casually, squinting through the rain to try and read some of the street names.

"Well…what happened! Are you in trouble?" He gasped suddenly. "Are you driving me to jail?"

Carmelita shot him a cute glance.

"No, Sly. He's closed the case. It won't go any further."

"He closed the case? Why?"

"I'm not sure. I think it's because he trusts me as a Cop. Beyond that I have no idea. He said he knows what it is to be in love, whatever that means."

"Wow," Sly breathed in relief. "Sounds as though he's a romantic at heart."

"Yeah, maybe," Carmelita smiled at her boyfriend. "But he's made it clear that if anything goes wrong it's my ass on the line, so Sly, nothing had better go wrong."

"Moi?" Sly grinned at her. She returned his smile. Seemed like all they ever did these days was beam at each other.

"You don't have to worry. I won't be causing any trouble."

"Good."

"Ah well, we can forget about it for tonight and relax a bit," Sly said, pushing himself back in his chair a little.

"You get to relax. I've never been in the company of criminals socially before."

"Oh yeah, I forgot that you were taking a walk on my side of the law tonight."

"Yeah, well, I guess I owe it to you. I know it can't be easy suddenly becoming a cop after so many years running away from them."

Sly looked over at Carmelita. Her eyes were fixed dead ahead, staring at the road. Sly leaned in and planted a kiss square on her cheek. Carmelita giggled quietly.

"Anyway, I forgot to ask you, how old are you today anyway?"

"Urm…" Sly said in embarrassment. Carmelita broke her gaze with the road for a few seconds to look at Sly.

"You don't know?"

"Er, not exactly. I think I'm about twenty-two. Me and the guys have never really dwelled on it."

"Poor Sly," Carmelita commented, turning the car into a shady back street.

"I'm fine. I quite like the air of mystery."

They drove on in silence for a few more minutes in silence, just quietly enjoying each other's company. Then, after a few moments longer, Carmelita pulled into a side alley.

"We're here."

"Cool. I'll lead the way."

They jogged through the rain to the doorway of Bentley's apartment, and Sly hit the buzzer button.

-

"Hi, good to see you mate. Happy Birthday!"

"Aw thanks, Bentley." Sly said as the tortoise opened the door to his friend. Sly stepped in cheerfully, while Carmelita shyly brought up the rear.

"Bentley, Carmelita, Carmelita, Bentley." Sly said glancing at them both. "I know you've both met before, but never under these circumstances, so may as well be formal."

"Good to see you," The tortoise offered a green hand to Carmelita amiably. The Inspector took his offer of friendship immediately.

"Likewise."

"See? I knew we were only ever at professional loggerheads. This is proof there was never anything personal." Sly chuckled.

"You may be right," Bentley agreed. He was wearing his usual red bow tie, but he was also sporting a pointy party hat which made him vaguely resemble a lawn dart. As sly looked at his friend he noticed that the tortoise had also taken the trouble to decorate the spokes of his wheelchair with some coloured streamers. Sly smiled.

"Well, can I get you guys anything? We have plenty of drinks and snacks and other stuff…you guys want a beer?"

"Sounds good to me, you?" Sly said glancing at Carmelita.

"I probably shouldn't, I'm driving…" The vixen said slowly.

"You sure?" Bentley asked. "You know you guys could always stay the night. We have a spare room."

"Honey?" Sly asked again. It _was_ her and Sly's day off tomorrow. Carmelita looked into his eyes. How could she deny the raccoon a sleep over at his friend's house?

"Uh, yeah, that sounds great, thank you." She said to Bentley.

"Awesome." The tortoise replied. "I'll go fetch you them."

He wheeled himself over to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

"Penelope! They're here!" He called out as he retrieved the bottles.

"Coming!" a mousey voice replied from the back of the apartment. A second later, Penelope entered the room, wearing a cream coloured polo neck top, designer jeans and a pair of chic sandals. She was smart but casual. She too was wearing a party hat, the elastic holding it to her head at a jaunty angle. Carmelita glanced at the floor in slight embarrassment. She was beginning to wish they'd made a stop at her apartment before they'd come; it would have given her a chance to change out of her work clothes.

"Hey Sly," Penelope greeted the raccoon with her usual husky voice. "Happy Birthday!" she said, pecking him lightly on the cheek.

"Thanks very much!" Sly beamed. "Penelope, I don't think you've met Carmelita…"

The mouse move towards Carmelita and held out her hand and grinned widely.

"Hi there," She said, shaking Carmelita's hand happily. "Bentley's told me so much about you."

"Oh, he hasn't has he?" Carmelita groaned. "I'm really a nice person, honest!"

Sly smiled broadly as the two girls chuckled together. Carmelita's self depreciative remark seemed to have won the heart of the pint-sized engineer. After a moment or two Bentley returned with their drinks.

"Sorry guys, took me a while to find the bottle opener." He explained. Penelope rolled her eyes at Carmelita while the Vixen made the 'tell me about it' face. Alarm bells rang faintly in the back of Sly's mind.

"Ah, I see you two have met, good, good." Bentley exclaimed as he passed the bottles of beer to both Sly and Carmelita. He seemed to have missed the girls' silent conversation entirely. Carmelita took a deep hit from her bottle and sighed contentedly. Nothing like a nice cold one after a hard day's work.

"Babe, did you give Sly his present yet?" Penelope asked her boyfriend.

"Uh, no I haven't…" Bentley admitted.

"Useless." Penelope sighed. "I'll go get it. Won't be a minute."

"Thanks sweetie," Bentley called after her.

"You didn't have to get me anything, pal," Sly spoke to his small friend.

"Ah, don't be silly Sly, we wanted to. Just hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Bentley said suddenly, taking a slurp from his own beer. "I spoke to Murray – he'll be coming over tonight."

"Oh wow, excellent!" Sly cried. "I thought he was still in Louisiana?"

"Yeah he was, but he leapt on the first plane out when I told him we'd managed to contact you. I think he really misses you."

"Aw. I've missed 'The Murray' too."

"Yeah. And get this: he's bringing his new girlfriend over for us to meet!"

"You're kidding!" Sly gasped with an amount of disbelief that was probably a little bit unkind. "Who is she?"

"No idea. He sounded a little shy about it on the phone. He said we'd just have to meet her. I'm expecting him anytime soon."

"Awesome!"

He turned to Carmelita.

"This I _am_ curious to see."

The Inspector simply smiled and shook her head at Sly a little.

"Me too." Bentley chipped in.

Presently, Penelope re-entered the room carrying a large flat birthday present that was almost as big as the mouse herself.

"Here you go Sly, happy birthday."

"Wow, thanks you guys, this looks amazing!"

"Hope you like it, it was something we found in your family vault." Bentley said as Sly began to tear off the ruby red wrapping paper.

"My vault, huh?" Sly repeated, unsure of what it could be. He ripped off the last of the paper and found that it was an ornate golden frame, with a brown board in the middle. For a second he thought that they had just given him the frame as a present, but then he noticed the backing wire and he realised that he was just holding it the wrong way round. With some effort, he flipped the portrait over, and froze when he saw the picture that was there. Bentley and Penelope had found a portrait of his father. His dad was sitting in a leather armchair, one of his legs resting casually on his knee. The Cooper cane, Sly's _own_ cane rested up against the arm of the chair. He sat with his arms folded, staring out of the picture, an unlit pipe perched between his lips, with a baby raccoon sitting sleepily on his knee. He wore the same blue shirt as Sly had done, and indeed he wore the same facial expression that Sly often used, a faint smile, the corners of his mouth just tugging back in contentedness. He had the same angular face as sly, and many of his features were similar, but there were a few subtle differences that separated father and son. There were lines on his father's face that Sly didn't have yet, though the onset of age and experience. His father was sporting a few white hairs in the photograph, something which thankfully had yet to befall sly. The most striking difference of all however, was that while Sly had black rings of fur around both of his eyes, his father had only one, over his left eye, making it look rather like he wore a permanent monocle. He smiled slyly at his son out of the picture, across the boundaries of time. For a few moments, Sly couldn't even speak. Carmelita peered at the picture over his shoulder and instantly understood why it was an emotionally intense moment for the raccoon.

"Where did you guys…the only picture of my Dad I saw in there was damaged, you couldn't see his face…"

"We found it behind one of the dressers in your father's section of the vault. It must have fallen off the wall."

Sly made no reply, but merely touched the glass of the portrait frame along his father's face. He stared at it for a few more moments, and glanced at the nameplate at the bottom.

"D. Cooper and son," He read. "That's me sitting on his knee."

Penelope nodded.

"It must have been taken just after you were born."

"He looks pretty proud to me, man." Bentley said, smiling up at his friend.

"Thank you so much!" Sly said tearing his eyes away from the picture. "I mean it. This is the best thing you ever could have…"

"It's fine, it's fine," Bentley laughed. "It's the least we could do. Glad you like it."

"I love it," The racoon asserted, blinking away one or two tears. "Thank you."

Very carefully, the raccoon propped the picture up against the wall in the corner of the room. Carmelita stared at it a few moments longer.

"You were cute as a baby, Sly!" She murmured, giving him a hug.

"Thanks. Hey, what do you mean, I'm cute now, aren't I?"

"I suppose so," She smiled, giving him a quick kiss.

"Jeez, get a room you guys," Bentley teased.

Sly shrugged at his friend.

"Sorry man. You'll just have to put up with it."

Just then there was a buzzing sound from somewhere near the door.

"Ah, I bet that'll be Murray," Bentley exclaimed as he wheeled himself excitedly over to the intercom. He pressed the button down with a green finger.

"Hello?" he spoke into the grille.

"Hi, Bentley it's me."

"Hey Murray, I'll unlock the door for you."

"Thanks. Is sly there yet?"

"Yep, he got here with Carmelita a few minutes ago. Looking forward to seeing your girlfriend!"

"Uh, yeah, we'll be right up." Murray said uncertainly.

The intercom clicked off and Bentley pressed the door unlock mechanism. The friends waited patiently for their new arrival, and they heard Murray's cumbersome footsteps on the stairs a good few moments before the knock at the door signalled his arrival.

Bentley swung the door open, and just barely framed in the doorway was the gigantic pink hippo, lightly damp from the rain outside. He was wearing a racing t-shirt and a black jacket to keep out the chilly September air.

"Hi Bentley!" He cried, high fiving the tortoise

"Good to see you mate," Bentley cried, rubbing his palm a little.

Murray caught sight of Sly in the room, and once Bentley had wheeled his chair aside, Murray dashed over to him and scooped him up in a bone crunching hug.

"I've missed you Sly! It's sooo good to see you again! Happy birthday!"

"Uh, hey thanks Murray, it's good to see you too," Sly gasped. "I've missed you as well."

Murray caught sight of Carmelita and abruptly dropped Sly in a heap. He advanced on the Vixen, and for a moment she thought he was going to attack. He reached her and scooped her up and gave her the same treatment as Sly.

"Miss Fox!" He cried crushing the life out of her. "Long time no see! Glad to hear you and Sly finally hooked up!"

"T-th-thank you," Carmelita choked from somewhere in the middle of Murray's bear hug.

"You're one of the family now," Sly commented, having picked himself up from the floor and popped his shoulders back into place.

"Yeah, there's no turning back now," Penelope laughed. At the sound of her voice Murray's head snapped round as if it were spring loaded.

"Penelope!" He shouted, dropping Carmelita and charging towards the mouse with steps that shook the whole apartment. "How are you?"

"Ack!" Penelope exclaimed, turning tail and attempting to outrun the pink juggernaught. "Not me! I'll get squished!"

Bentley laughed loudly as Murray caught up with his girlfriend and squeezed the living daylights out of her. He got away with a sore hand because of his wheelchair. Magic.

Then a thought struck him.

"Murray? Where's this girlfriend you were talking about?"

"Oh right," Murray exclaimed, dropping the mouse. She fell to the floor and groaned loudly. "I asked her to wait outside while I came in here to prepare you all."

"Prepare us?" Sly questioned. "We're mostly former thieves Murray. We're probably the most unprepossessing people you're likely to meet."

"Yeah, I know, but-" Murray played with his fingers and glanced at the floor. "My girlfriend, you…you've kinda met her before."

An air of puzzlement passed by the whole room.

"Sweetie? You can, um, come in now." Murray called out. In the doorway, a figure smaller than Murray, but still slightlylarger than anyone else in the room appeared. She had green scaly skin and wore a red headscarf over her black dreadlocks. Countless rings and other pieces of exotic jewellery adorned her person. She grinned a toothy smile, and a single ruby glittered from her navel. Her long fingernails were painted blood red, and her rain slick dress clung to her skin and showed off her plentiful bosom. Although the crocodile had lost a lot of weight since anyone in the room had last seen her, there could be no doubt as to her identity.

"Wale, wale, we meet agin, Sla Kew-per," Mz. Ruby said from the doorway.


	3. Murray's Story

Murray floored the pedal as hard as he could. He was approaching the finish line, and he was in the lead by a hair. He knew that there was a horrifically sharp curve right before the chequered flag, but to slow down at all would lose him his lead. He was jammed in the outside lane; the guy in the racing truck behind him wasn't giving him an inch. The wheels kicked up gravel angrily as Murray hit a dodgy patch of road. He was about to hit the bend… With all of his strength he swung the wheel right around to the limit, and the cumbersome van jolted dangerously to the left. Murray knew the van wouldn't be able to keep up like this, even as he cruelly sliced across the path of the driver behind. He just had to keep it on its wheels until he crossed the finish line. After another half instant, Murray saw the greyish blur of the flag out of the side window. In his mind he whooped with joy, but he couldn't allow himself to celebrate for real, not just yet. He slammed on the brakes for all the good it did him, and braced himself as the van lost control completely and pitched violently over to the right, before going over completely. Murray gritted his teeth.

To the race spectators, the winning vehicle just managed to cross the finish line before rolling over like a steel tumble weed. It rolled, once, twice, bounced up into the air and somersaulted, all the while with pieces of the van flying off, metal denting and twisting, glass breaking and the chassis crumpling. After it fell to earth with a crunch on its side, the crowd looked on with baited breath as the dust settled. The fire crew and the paramedics rushed to the battered van, fearing the worst. The crowd inwardly drew breath. Before the first of the ambulance men reached the van, there was movement from somewhere inside. Then, with the force of a battering ram, the passenger side door of the van, the one closest the sky, was kicked off by a muscular pink leg. The twisted flap of metal hit the deck, and as the crowd looked on, Murray emerged woozily from the van. His helmet now had a large dent in the front, and his racing goggles were now askew on his face, one lens covering his eye, the other his cheek, but he was apparently otherwise unharmed. The crowd roared with adoration as Murray straightened his goggles and shook his head clear. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. The paramedics reached him, and helped him out of the wreckage of the van. Unsteadily, Murray climbed out and jumped to the floor with the help of the nearest doctor. Once he was on his feet on the ground a second paramedic came to his aid, and between the two of them, one under each arm, they helped him to walk. They needn't have worried. With every step that Murray took on the ground, he regained his balance a little more, and his dizziness subsided. He was still coasting along on an adrenaline high, which intensified when he raised his arms to the crowd and their roar reached a crescendo. The paramedics, suitably satisfied that the hippo was ok, backed away, and the fire crew began the chore of clearing up the van in the background. The crowd stood on their seats, hollering Murray's name and showering the stands with confetti and streamers. The driver who came in second had pulled up in the pit stop and was removing his helmet and gloves. His face was etched with disappointment, but all the same, he clapped along with the crowd. Murray grinned widely as the winner's podium beckoned, and his agent approached him.

"Murray baby, beautiful win, I wasn't worried for a second there." The tiny bear gushed, momentarily removing his cigarette holder from his lips.

"Thanks Ted," Murray smiled. "It was a bit hairy towards the end…"

"I can see," Ted replied, eyeing the wreckage of the van as the firemen righted it onto its wheels with a crunch. "It looks like most of the prize money for this race is going on repair."

"Minus my fee, of course," He added sheepishly.

"This isn't about money Ted. I told you before, money isn't a problem."

"Spoken like a true racer," Ted beamed. "But even so, it might be nice to finish a race every now and then when we didn't have to replace the chassis and bodywork, hmm?"

"I'll do my best Ted."

"Of course you will darling." The bear patted Murray on his hand, the highest point of the pink racer that he could comfortably reach. "Well, just have the podium, publicity photos, a quick autograph session, and then we're done. Oh, we're all going for drinks at the Voodoo Lady afterwards, I said you might be interested."

"Uh, sure that sounds ok."

"Well, no pressure. Now, go be fabulous!"

Murray thanked his agent one final time and stepped up on the massive white podium over the number one.

-

"Really darling, it was the most rotten luck."

Murray slumped over the imitation bamboo bar top and stared hard into his cocktail glass that contained a fluorescent orange liquid. He was wearing his blue racing vest from earlier, but he had since removed his goggles and gloves. Beside him Ted perched on a barstool trimmed in kitschy fake grass. The entire bar was covered by a thatched roof, and tables made out of the same fake bamboo were dotted around, mixed in with various potted plants. There were no doors to the bar, the thatched roof being basically a canopy. Outside torches burned in the rapidly darkening evening.

Murray simply groaned and continued to eyeball his highball.

"I'll have a word with the race officials; they really should make those things stronger. I'll mention a lawsuit; we'll get them to fix your van no problem."

He patted Murray reassuringly on the shoulder. The hippo glanced over at him. He was wearing the same pinstriped suit from earlier, but he appeared to have switched ties for the evening, a satin looking blue number. Murray still couldn't find it in himself to say anything. The whole thing had just been too mortifying.

"Anyway, you won the race at least, didn't you? I tell you, we'll have a magazine deal out of this by the end of the week. If you keep winning like this the sky's the limit my boy."

"I guess so," Murray replied, brightening up ever so slightly.

"There you go!" Ted smiled. "Trust me, the podium thing is tomorrow's fish wrapper."

The bear elegantly finished his drink and hopped off the barstool.

"You're leaving?" Murray asked.

"Well, I believe that there's a couple of ladies over there who might be interested in a few free drinks," Ted gestured across the bar at a table. Murray followed his finger and saw the girls in question. They were a couple of squirrels perched at the wicker table, both in garishly coloured one piece strapless skirts. Murray frowned.

"I'm sure they'd love to meet the 1st place winner of today's race, darling."

"Not my type I'm afraid, Ted."

"Ah, a sentiment I've heard from you before dear," Ted replied, not taking his eyes from the swaying bushy tails that protruded from the back of the squirrel's chairs. "When you do find your 'type' you'll be sure to let me know, I'd be very much interested in meeting her."

Murray nodded aside the gentle ribbing.

"You don't mind if I try my luck, do you Murray?"

"Go ahead. I'll probably just finish my drink here and get an early night."

"Good man. It's willpower like that that is regrettably sorely lacking in my own personality. I bid you good evening sir."

"Yeah, night Ted." Murray intoned, before taking a deep swig from his drink. He saw the bear move off to the table and strike up a conversation with the squirrels. He turned his gaze away. His agent's evening was pretty much sorted now, it required no further attention. He suddenly felt an urge to leave. He'd had enough of the whole day. Even though he'd won his race, it felt like a defeat. It wasn't even the incident with the podium that was bothering him either, it was some tiny pang that he couldn't quite nail down, some irritation to his contentment that was just beyond his reach. He glanced back over to Ted, despite himself. The bear was now firmly ensconced at the squirrels table, the girls laughing raucously, his agent ordering more drinks with abandon. He'd probably end up sleeping with both of them tonight. He narrowed his eyes. Was that what was getting to him? The fact that his agent would more than likely be spending the night in the company of two squirrel girls? He took a second look at the girls to make sure. He snorted some air through his nostrils. He had been right the first time, he didn't find the kind of girls that Ted was into all that attractive, but it just seemed like everyone but him was in the middle of some big fuzzy lovey-dovey relationship. He'd been happy for Bentley when he'd managed to be a hero for Penelope, and it looked as though Sly had finally hooked up with Inspector Fox, for better or worse, but… where was 'the Murray's' girlfriend? Who did he get to snuggle up to at night and bore the arse off all his friends talking about? He sunk the last of drink and slapped a dinner plate sized hand on the bar-top for another. He glared at his reflection in the empty glass. The bartender glanced over, and seemed to mentally decide whether to ask the hippo to keep it down. He evidently didn't fancy his chances too much, as he simply took Murray's order and vanished to the other end of the bar.

Murray started on his new drink. He was being stupid, it was irritating, that was all. He'd meet someone eventually, but he just wished he had more hold over his raging emotions. These days he could fall in love twelve times simply by getting out of bed, leaving his motel and opening his damn eyes.

-

Eyes narrowed in the dense forest just outside the 'Voodoo Lady'. The eyes rolled at the name, but then refocused on the target. She'd been at the race, and had seethed with annoyance when the hippo had emerged from the wreckage without so much as a scratch. With all the bad Juju she'd been pumping in his direction there should have been nothing left but a red streak just over the finish line. Her one consolation was that whether it was her own dark arts or not, something had made the big fat lug crash right through the winner's podium. She'd laughed a loud cackling laugh that had only just been drowned out by the gasp of alarm from the crowd. Her immaculate teeth glinted in the torchlight as she once again cracked an evil grin. Mz. Ruby stepped out into the clearing, dark shadows playing over her green scaly skin. She was half the size she had been since she was carted off to jail, the food and workload actually worked wonders for her figure. Every cloud had a silver lining, and now she was out she was going to take great pleasure in seducing and dismembering an old acquaintance of Sly Cooper. It was a pity it wasn't the raccoon himself, but 'The Murray' (Mz. Ruby rolled her gleaming eyes a second time) was the next best thing. She could pump him for information, find out where the little raccoon bottom feeder was living these days and then send him his comrade's ears in the post. She laughed through clenched teeth. Then, he'd be next, and who knew after that? Maybe she could pay the little green one a visit, and after that she was sure that her arresting officer would be pleased to see her… She stopped. First thing was first. She had all the time in the world to plot her revenge, but the hippo wouldn't be in the bar forever. She knew that if it came to a fight that Murray could wipe the floor with her, and the second he saw her he'd be ready to unleash hell. However, there was a way she could get near him, and that was with some elementary voodoo magic. She took a small purple perfume bottle from a pocket very carefully pulled the stopper from the top. She then dabbed a drop or two on her scaly neck. A pink vapour wafted off her skin for a second or two and then was gone, but the scent remained. She straightened her dreadlocks, checked her bosom and marched towards the bar. She passed by the torched that burned at the entrance. Just as she was about to step onto the hardwood slats that made up the floor of the bar, her path was blocked by a large dog in a tuxedo holding a clipboard and pen.

"Excuse me Ma'am, you are…?" He asked rigidly. Mz. Ruby turned her attention to him, almost as an afterthought.

"Wha, hello there," She drawled. "Ma name iz Mz. Ruby. Ah've seen an old friend at the bar there and ah was just hoping to sah hi."

"Mz. Ruby," The dog repeated, heavily scrutinizing his clipboard. He was bigger than Ruby, and appeared to be Doberman breed. They made for good bouncers. "Nope, sorry, not on the list."

"Yew mean ah can't just go say hello?"

"No one gets past who isn't on the list."

"Aw, please?" Ruby simpered, trailing a red claw over the bouncer's lapels.

"Sorry Ma'am." The dog replied, not sounding sorry at all.

Mz. Ruby dropped all pretences. She scowled, and levelled her gaze evenly at the dog. She began to chant ancient spells in her mind, and focused all the energy on the unwitting dog. The power of countless generations of voodoo priestesses flowed out of Ruby's eyes and into the bouncer's with the intention of giving him the fear. Within an instant the Dog experienced the physical world melt away and he felt as though he were standing at the gates of hell itself. Nothing existed, no light, no dark, no up, no down, just him, him and an impenetrable wall of ice cold fear. In that moment he lost all self awareness and he existed only as breath of air that was too terrified to even scream. Then, as quickly as it had started, Ruby released him back into the world. He looked around himself in abject horror. He didn't even seem to see Mz. Ruby anymore. He was physically shaking and his face was streaked with tears, and for a few moments he couldn't even breathe.

"How bout now?" Ruby snarled, her eyes narrowing. The dog couldn't even reply, so she simply hit him in the shoulder with the palm of her hand, and he collapsed to the floor and began to rock back and forth whilst sobbing quietly. Mz. Ruby stepped past him confidently, and once again pinned her winning smile to her lips. She was rather pleased with how that had turned out, she still had it! She could make people go insane if she held them under for long enough. The bouncer, he'd be fine in a week or two. Probably. Besides, that was a mere aperitif for what lay in store for Murray.

-

As he was sinking his second drink, Murray smelt something from somewhere. He'd moved away from the bar now to one of the tables at the edge of the canopy, he wasn't took keen on the way the bartender kept checking up on him to make sure he hadn't broken anything. He was a few empty tables in front of Ted, but his agent and his companions had their backs to him. He at first thought the scent was coming from the forest outside, but it didn't seem to be. He tilted his head back to try and get a better whiff of the odour. It smelt like the most exquisite perfume he'd ever smelt, a cornucopia of floral treasures and exotic fruits. It held an edge of sea coral, and an underpinning snifter of pine and unknown delicious spices. Murray still couldn't tell where it was coming from, but he pulled in great gulps of the scented air, drinking it in by the gallon savouring the sweet experience. He brought his head back down, the smell making him more drunk than the alcohol in his glass. That's when he saw her. Mz. Ruby was stepping across the threshold to the bar and was making her way confidently towards him. He recognised her from the newspaper clipping he's seen of her just after she's been busted by Inspector Fox, and although in the picture she hadn't been looking her best, sporting a black eye and a thick lip, and even though she must have lost half her weight since then, there was no mistaking it was her. He remembered her blood red, razor sharp claws, and her pearly white teeth, both capable of rending flesh in seconds. He remembered her smooth green skin that complemented her black dreadlocked hair, and that clashed violently with the red bandana that she typically wore. New to him were the gentle curves of her body, her perfect figure, not too skinny like the kind of girls Ted liked or the petite fragile body of Inspector Fox, but a proper womanly build, from her muscular buttocks to her mountainous bust. He took in the purple frilly boob tube that she wore, showing off just the right amount of cleavage, and her denim hot pants that showed off her behind. Her athletic legs ended in cute little sneakers that… Wait. What the hell was he doing? He shook his head slightly and refocused on Mz. Ruby. She still looked great and now she was almost on top of him. He new he'd been a little irked that he was the only one of his friends without a girlfriend, but this was stupid! Had he really lowered his guard to the degree where known felons and possible murderers looked appealing to him? The tantalising aroma around him intensified to an intoxicating degree and with a small start he realised that it was coming from the sweet crocodile in front of him. The crocodile. The crocodile in front of him.

"Wale, long time no see shuga," He said to him cheerfully, her hands on her hips.

"Actually, we've…we've never been properly introduced," Murray grinned back at her. Somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny voice screamed, '_Don't turn on the charm, you idiot! Smash her over the head with your chair and run! Run away! She'll eat you! Run the hell away!_'

His body didn't listen, siding with the majority of his brain. Mz. Ruby continued.

"Wha ah do believe you're right, Mistah Murray." She smiled down on him like a reptilian angel. "Do yew mind if ah join yew?"

God, that accent! It was so sexy it drove him mad!

"Not at all, please do!" Murray beamed, struggling to get out of his chair. He did so, and pulled out the spare chair for Mz. Ruby to sit down, like a true gentleman. Mz. Ruby took the chair and sat, coyly putting her hands on her lap. She beamed, surprised at how well this was going. She knew her love potion was powerful, but there was usually a little bit of resistance. This guy must be a total loser, waiting to be taken over. Oh well, good for her, bad for him.

"Ah just saw yew race today, ah thought yew were amazing!"

"Oh, um, thanks," Murray mumbled, a little colour flushing into his cheeks. "I guess you saw the stuff with the podium?"

"Ah'm afraid ah did," Ruby replied. "They shood make those things stronger."

"I guess they should," Murray smiled a little.

"Yew savoured the dignity bewtifully,"

"Wow, um, thanks… Hey, where are my manners, can I get you a drink?" Murray asked sheepishly. He wasn't normally all that good at talking to girls, but for some reason he could talk to Mz. Ruby more easily than most. What the hell did that say about him? _'Let's not forget that this woman had a hand in the death of your best friend's parents'_, his mind reminded him.

"No, ah insist, ah'll get some drinks, ah just wanna show there's no hard feelings," Ruby grinned.

Murray watched her rise from her chair and followed her to the bar with his eyes. Her thick tail waved a sexy wave at him as she walked away. What the hell was he doing?

-

Mz. Ruby strutted over to the bar, deliberately overplaying her flirty behaviour. She leaned over the bar, aiming and succeeding to give Murray a good view of the caboose. If Sly proved to be as easy to get to as this pink buffoon then he'd be dead within the week.

"Two black Russians please," She murmured to the bartender. The bartender mixed the drinks, placed them in front of Mz. Ruby, took the money, raised an eyebrow and returned, once again, to polishing glasses. The Crocodile paused over the glasses to adjust one of her rings. She twisted the tiger's eye stone that was set into the band of gold and tipped the white powder that resided in the miniscule compartment underneath into one of the glasses. Her grin widened impossibly. This would make the hippo her good little obedient zombie. She suppressed a laugh, then returned her expression to playful. As femininely as possible, she plucked the glasses from the bar and returned to the table, placing the poisoned drink in front of Murray.

"Ah realize that ah'm probably not the most popular person with you an your friens,"

"Well, that was a long time ago, and um, you know, you've been to jail, so, um, that means…" Murray floundered wildly.

He was engaged in a massive inner war between his rational mind and his rampant emotions.

"Wale, ah want yew to know that ah'm truly sorry for everythin ah did, an ah want yew to know that ah'm not tha evil woman yew think ah am." Mz. Ruby spoke, silently willing Murray to take even the tiniest sip from the black Russian. He still hadn't finished the cocktail he'd been drinking when she'd first arrived. Murray brightened at her words. Finally something solid he could cling to amongst all theses confusing feelings.

"I don't think you're evil." He said.

"Why, thank yew," Ruby replied evenly, not really listening.

"No, really." Murray continued. "I never did."

Mz. Ruby's ears pricked up at this, and she centred her gaze at Murray's eyes.

"What? Yew mean… yew never…even though ah…"

"I read the file on you. People were mean to you when you were little, so the only way you could have any friends was to make your own. All lonely children do that, the only difference is that you had the ability to raise the dead." Murray took another swig from the cocktail, almost draining the glass.

"But… what about the fiendish fahve?"

"Well, it's understandable, if you look at it. You haven't had any friends all your life, when suddenly a gang comes along who says that you'll fit right in, and who'll be your friends, it's only natural that you'd want to be a part of it."

"Yes, yes, that's exactly how it whas!" Ruby exclaimed, the first genuine thing she'd said to Murray all night. The hippo smiled sincerely at her. He truly believed in what he was saying, and had chosen, for the time being, to place his trust in Mz. Ruby. If it turned out she was nasty, he was fairly sure he could take care of himself. The crocodile's perfume still playing in his nostrils, he somehow didn't think that she meant him harm.

Now it was Mz. Ruby's turn to be torn. She had so much pent up rage since she had been arrested, was it possible she'd buried the very feelings that had brought her to where she was? She closed her eyes for a moment while she struggled internally.

'_What are yew thinkin'? He's with Sla Kewper!'_

'Ah know that. Bhut ah don' think he's the problem. Not anymore.'

'_Whaddaya mean, he ain't tha problem? It's coz of him that you went t'jail!_"

'That warn't his fault. He was jus' tryin to get his birthright back.'

'_Don't listen to thayt damn fool! You weren't in the gang for friends!'_

'C'mon now, we both know that ain't true.'

'_It's too late now. Get your revenge! Yew are what yew are!'_

'No. I kin have a real friend now. Ah ain't evil. Ah ain't evil. Ah ain't evil.'

"Ah ain't evil," Mz. Ruby said softly, in wonder.

"Hm?" Murray said, the black Russian mere inches from his lips. Mz. Ruby looked up at him and her eyes widened.

"NOO!" she screamed, reaching over the table and dashing the drink from Murray's hand. The glass shattered on the hardwood floor and the liquid inside fizzed and burnt at the wooden floor. Murray looked in the direction of the glass.

"Woah, that looked like rough stuff." He turned his attention back to Mz. Ruby. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Mz. Ruby stared at him in wild eyed panic.

"Am I gonna have to ask you two to leave?" The bartender called over to them. There was only Ted and the squirrels left in the bar, and they'd barely looked around, even at the sound of the glass breaking.

"Uh, no," Murray said standing. "I'm sorry. We had a little accident. I'll pay for any damages."

The hippo pulled his wallet from his vest pocket and tossed a few bills on the bar. The bartender nodded his satisfaction as Mz. Ruby pulled herself from the table. She strode dejectedly to the bar.

"Gimme a glass of water," She mumbled to the tender.

"You sure you're not gonna break this glass too?"

Mz. Ruby shot him a dirty look, and almost gave him the fear. But she was being nice now.

"Pleese. Ah'll be good, ah swear."

The bartender frowned and filled a glass with water from the hose tap and placed it in front of the crocodile.

"Thank yew."

She dipped a bejewelled hand into the glass and rubbed the water about her neck, as if frantically trying to wash something away. The bartender eyed her suspiciously but said nothing.

"Are you okay?" Murray asked again.

"Ah'm… ah'm fine. Ah'm sorry ah bothered yew Murray, I hope yew have a nice life." She turned to leave.

"A nice life…?" Murray repeated. Then the penny dropped. "Hey, uh, wait…"

Mz. Ruby half turned. "Yeah?"

Murray squirmed for a moment. The perfume smell had gone, but Mz. Ruby's beauty remained. God, he wished he was better at this.

"You, uh, you don't have to leave just yet…do you?"

"Murray, ah don't think yew understand. Ah'm bad. Ah don' think yew wanna be around me."

She turned again to leave. Murray jogged after her.

"You…seem nice to me. Um, do you, um, maybe wanna go somewhere? Um, with me I mean." Murray waited, straining his ears for the sound of the sniggering. None came.

Mz. Ruby was astonished for the second time that night. The love potion was a one-hit-wonder, once it was removed all effects ceased. This…this was under his own steam.

"Yes!" She half gasped. "Ah would like that very much!"

"Oh," Murray replied, himself very surprised. "Awesome."

Mz. Ruby saw his face flush redder than a Haitian sunset, and she suddenly found herself immensely attracted to the hippo, he just looked so cute! Murray strode up to her and offered her his arm, which she took gladly. Murray slung a glance over his shoulder, to see Ted leaning over the back of his chair, offering the racer a salute of two raised eyebrows and one raised glass.

-

"So when did you get out of jail?"

"Layst week. Ah got out early for good behaviour." She replied.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." Murray chuckled. "What're you gonna do now?"

"Ah'm not sure. Ah thought ah had it all figured out, but it seems to have changed now. Ah was so angry for the longest time, but…ah don't know. Ah seem to have let it go now."

"I'm glad to hear it." Murray spoke. "It's not good to carry all that around with you."

"Tell me about it."

They were strolling along the edge of the swamp, moonlight bathing everything in a silvery glow, whilst fireflies raced each other through the bulrushes, and the reflection on the water making it look like there was two of everything. They were holding hands, despite themselves. Murray's inner voice had since hushed up about Mz. Ruby, since it too now seemed to trust her. Murray couldn't believe that he'd trusted her so quickly, and he still wasn't entirely sure if it was a good or a bad thing. He supposed he'd take it as a good thing until she cut off his head and used it to keep her bugs in. He grinned and gave her hand a little squeeze. Suddenly something occurred to him.

"So, um, 'Mz.' Ruby?"

"Hm?"

"Does that mean there's a Mr. Ruby?"

"Oh yes," Ruby sighed as she looked out over the swamp.

"Oh." Murray said sadly. His hand went limp.

"Don't worry shuga," Ruby said, looking at him. "Mah father left when ah was just a little girl."

"Oh," Murray said brightening. "See, I meant…"

"Ah know whut yew meant," Ruby giggled. "And no. There ain't no Mr. Ruby. It's really more of a voodoo title. Yew kin call me Ruby."

"I see. Cool." Murray looked out over the swamp himself.

"Murray, there's something ah wanna tell yew," Ruby said, pressing herself against the hippo.

"That night all those years ago, when me an' the gang broke into Sla's howse,"

"Yes?"

"Ah jus' want yew to know…" tears welling up in her eyes "Ah didn't kill Sla's mummy and daddy. That wuz all Clockwerk. Ah know that doesn't make it any better, but…" She broke down crying.

Murray hugged her.

"We always figured that." Murray said. "When we teamed up with the Panda King he told us as much. He told you that you were just going to steal the Thevius Raccoonus, right? Then he slaughters Sly's parents and you can't say anything because you know he'll turn on you."

"That was when ah realised he wuz truly evil, but by then it wuz too late," Ruby sobbed. "Ah'm so sorry!"

"Hey, it's ok. Sly forgave the Panda King, I'm sure he'll forgive you too."

"He did?" Ruby sniffled looking up from Murray's chest. "Yew think he'll do th' same for me?"

"I do. Once he sees that you're good he'll love you!"

"Ah hope so…" she sighed.

"Trust me." Then he grinned suddenly. "Why don't you come back to France with me? I heard from Bentley the other day that Sly's back, and it's his birthday in a couple of days."

"Ah have always wanted to see Paris…" Ruby sighed, drying her eyes.

"Ace! We'll go, you can say your piece to Sly and we'll all be cool!" Murray rejoiced.

"Thank yew so much for bein mah friend Murray," Ruby said, still hugging the hippo. She glanced into his eyes and saw that he had once again taken on the complexion of a tomato.

"…well, um, y'know, if you wanted to, I could be, y'know, kinda, more than just a friend, maybe…?"

Ruby allowed her mouth to crack open in surprise, just a little.

"Ah think ah'd like that very much." She said, before passionately kissing Murray on the lips.

Murray hesitated for the tiniest of microseconds out of sheer disbelief before he kissed her back just as passionately and squeezed her tight. The moon continued to bathe them in silver, and the fireflies, reacting to the happy voodoo vibes Ruby was giving off without even realising it, swarmed around the new couple, wreathing their first kiss in living fairy lights.

-

Author's notes:

Very sorry this took so long to get up, I'm now juggling university AND a McJob. Still, I hope you liked this anyway, and I'll try and get the next chapter finished soon. Still not sure where it's going, but I'm sure we'll find out eventually. Do please leave feedback and what-not, I do so love to hear what people think. Thanks very much!


	4. Parting Gifts

"Murray, could I see you for a moment?" Sly hissed after the dark ages of all uncomfortable silences. Murray and Mz. Ruby stood by the door that was still open and deftly avoided the gaze of everyone in the room. Sly was glaring at Murray and Bentley and Penelope looked on in open mouthed astonishment. Only Carmelita kept her expression neutral, but she took the time to discreetly undo the button on her hip holster.

"Uh, sure Sly," Murray replied, still avoiding his friend's eyes.

"Yeah, you guys can talk in our room," Bentley remarked. "I'll come too. Pen, will you get our guests some drinks and things?"

"Sure hon," Penelope said, determined to keep her cool in what was a pretty uncomfortable moment.

Bentley wheeled himself a hundred and eighty degrees in his chair and led the way to the back bedroom. Sly followed, and as he passed Carmelita he caught her eye and threw a dirty look at the crocodile near the door. The vixen nodded back at him, understanding. She made a small indication to her gun. Sly smiled thinly. Murray slumped after his friends, and they entered the bedroom in single file. Bentley closed the door behind them.

"Murray, what the hell is going on?" Sly asked immediately after he heard the sound of the door close. His voice was far to calm to be calm.

"Um…we met while I was in Louisiana. I…"

"What, and you thought you'd bring her back here? Seriously, is she threatening you or something?"

Murray took a deep breath. He'd prepared himself for this.

"She's changed Sly. She's done her jail time and she's nice now. She's come to apologise to you."

"Oh, well, that's perfectly acceptable then!" Sly ranted, pacing around the bed. "That'll sure take the sting out of my parents' murder!"

There was a long silence. Bentley looked between his friends, unsure of whom to side with. Murray wrung his hands, while Sly stared into the corner of the room with his arms folded.

"…that wasn't her. That was Clockwerk…" Murray said quietly.

Bentley visibly winced. Sly whipped round at electric speed and fixed Murray with a look of pure hatred. Then he relented.

"That bitch has done a number on you man. Seriously, did she drug you or something?"

A spark of fire appeared in Murray's eye, and after a moment Bentley recognised it as the look the hippo used to get when he was in a particularly ferocious battle. He also noticed that the hippo had clenched his fists so tight his knuckles had gone white. He felt the time had come for diplomacy.

"Whoa, now, c'mon guys, lets try and keep it civil ok?" He attempted. He also took the trouble to wheel himself an inch or so between his friends.

"She's not a bitch Sly." Murray said grimly, choosing his words extremely carefully. "I just need you to give her a chance. You forgave the Panda King."

"That was different," Sly snapped. "We needed him, and after a while he proved himself."

"She's proved herself to me Sly."

"Well, easy for you to say, she didn't kill your parents."

Murray closed his eyes in frustration. They were going around in circles.

"Look I told you…I just want you to give her a chance! Is that too much to ask?"

"Murray, you're talking as if all that's wrong with her is a bad fashion sense!" Sly jabbed a finger at the door. "She's a convicted criminal!"

"So're we!"

Sly faltered.

"The only difference is she's _served_ her sentence!" He continued. "You're the one who suddenly ditched us to chase someone on the other side of the law!"

"I came back! And what's more is… wait a minute, why the hell am I defending myself? I left you all that money, and you repay me by shacking up with one of the people who helped take my family away? Some friend you are."

"You know, we're all orphans here Sly," Murray boomed, raising his voice for the first time, his voice shaking the very room. Bentley shrunk even more. "I thought _we_ were your family!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I've always been loyal to you and Bentley! I'm sorry if you think that finally going after the woman I love means I'm ditching you, but…"

"No, of course not," Murray said in exasperation, "But you'd think that if we're so close you'd cut me a little slack here. I trust her."

"I don't Murray. I don't trust her an inch."

"Then you don't trust me either."

Murray turned his back on the raccoon. Sly too turned on his heel and stormed to the other side of the room and stared out of the window. The room was bathed in a grey glow from the twilight outside, and it was still raining. The water over the glass came down in little ripples that were cast over the entire room. Now that the shouting had stopped the pattering of the raindrops was almost deafening, a divine weeping for the rift of a lifelong friendship. After a few agonising minutes Bentley cleared his throat.

"Er, I could go get a knife and we could cut some of the tension in here."

The sound of the rain was the only answer he received.

"Ok, not cool with the jokes yet, that's fine. I'll just talk for a bit."

Although neither Sly nor Murray were looking at him Bentley knew that they were both listening. He took a deep breath.

"Both you guys are upset, and I think you've both said some stuff you didn't mean. But there's some things that you should both know. Sly, we owe it to Murray to give her a chance." Sly's ear's pricked up, but he didn't turn around. "If not for her, then for him. He's our best friend, and after the past two years on the team I think he's earned it, don't you?"

Bentley turned his head to address Murray's back.

"Murray, you have to understand, you did spring this on us a little bit. And, whatever happened, Sly and your new girlfriend do have a bit of a history and you have to understand that."

Murray shifted his weight from foot to foot, but he too made no reply.

"Guys, you gotta call a truce. For now at least. Sly, we'll see how it goes. Murray…well, just be careful."

Both Sly and Murray risked a glance behind them, and both, realising that they'd been spotted by the other, defiantly returned their gaze the opposite way. Bentley looked on. Now it was simply a matter of time, which one would make the first move? After a few more moments of rainy silence, Sly turned on his heel.

"Whatever. I'm going back out there to keep an eye on her."

He breezed past the hippo and closed the door behind him with a soft thud. Murray covered his face with a dinner plate sized hand. He groaned softly.

"Well, that went well." Bentley deadpanned from somewhere beneath him.

"Aw, god Benley…" Murray whined. "You think I've blown it with Sly?"

Bentley was silent for a moment.

"No, I don't think so. But you gotta understand, this is about the last thing we were expecting. You could have told us about it over the phone."

"I was worried that if I did that you'd all refuse to meet us."

The tortoise glanced up at his friend.

"Of course we would have…"

Murray pulled his hand from his face and looked into his friend's face.

"Well, I would have anyway." Bentley continued.

"Thanks man."

"Look, Sly's just shocked, that's all. You know what he can be like, once he sees that you and Mz. Ruby are ok he'll calm down."

Murray nodded, taking several deep breaths. Prepared as he was, he'd still buckled slightly under the raccoon's harsh words.

"And, er… you will be careful, yeah?" Bentley prodded as delicately as he could.

"Yes, I will." The hippo sighed.

"Like if she tries to eat you, or something."

"Yes Bentley."

"Or if she summons up a legion of her un-dead snotty hoards again…"

"Alright!" Murray snapped. "I'll be careful Bentley, I have the situation in hand."

"Right. Yes. Good. Great!" Bentley recovered, wheeling himself towards the door. "You know, I always assumed that the 'Mz.' meant she was married…"

"Yeah, I thought that at first." Murray said following him back into the other room. "Turns out it's just a title…"

His voice trailed off as he and Bentley crossed the carpet back to the living area. It wasn't the horribly awkward scene he'd expected it to be. Sly was sitting grumpily alone in one of the armchairs, no so much looking daggers at Mz. Ruby as looking anti-tank mortars at her, but that was to be expected. What was surprising was that the three girls were sitting quite jovially on the three piece sweet, Penelope in the middle with Carmelita and Mz. Ruby on either side. All of them were chatting like they'd known each other for years. Sly scowled at their words and light laugher, and began to claw at the armrests of his chair. The scene was just surreal enough to stop Bentley and Murray in their tracks, and though their disbelief was viscous, some of the girls' conversation seeped through.

"…well, you should see Bentley in the mornings. Sometimes I find him completely inside his shell. It's like waking up with a gigantic peanut." Penelope was saying. The other girls exploded into riotous laughter. After they'd calmed down Mz. Ruby spoke.

"Ah envy yew. Ah find that sleepin' with dear Murrah requiahs quite a degree of skill. Two nights now ah've had t'block and counter just t'keep mah side of the mattress."

Cue more giggling. The colour drained from Bentley's face. Murray blushed crimson. Sly dug his claws into the armrests even further, like he was in the dentist's chair.

"I'm not sure I like the way this is going…" Bentley said, transfixed by the girls on the couch.

"The horror…" Murray whispered.

"Just back away slowly, don't make eye contact…" Bentley said softly, wheeling his chair backwards quietly. Murray began to follow in kind when he paused.

"Sly!" He said louder than he'd meant to.

"Forget him, he's a goner!" Bentley hissed.

"We can't leave a man behind!" Murray whispered back. He tip-toed over to the back of Sly's armchair, trying to be as inconspicuous as a neon pink hippo tiptoeing across a living room could be. He attempted, with some success, to blot out the girls conversation until he was directly behind Sly's chair. He reached over the back and clamped an enormous mitt over the raccoon's muzzle. Sly tensed for a second, then began struggling beneath Murray's grasp. The hippo held him tight and wrapped his other colossal arm around his friend's chest to prevent him from escaping. Murray bent down and whispered directly into the raccoon's ear.

"Shh! I'm rescuing you!"

Sly rolled his eyes backwards to try and get a look at Murray, but all he could make out was the hippo's arms disappearing behind him.

"Mrph?" Sly said, in a confused and irritated tone.

"Come on!" Murray whispered, and with that, hoisted Sly over the back of the chair and sneaked off, carrying him under his arm, palm still firmly stuck over his mouth. He stalked over to the kitchen area, where Bentley was peeking over the countertop with a colander on his head. Murray arrived behind the counter with Bentley, and with a final quick look at the living area, dived down, still manhandling Sly. Bentley leaned forward in his chair, to get out of sight from the girls and also to better address his buddies.

"You got him out of there. Thank God," Bentley breathed.

"Mphhra! Muraaahy!" Sly commented. "Mrph. Memmphly! Mh."

"Sly, I can only let you go if you promise not to shout." Murray once again whispered into Sly's ear.

"He's right. You could give away our position…" Bentley muttered darkly.

Sly rolled his eyes so hard he pulled a muscle. After a minute pause, he gave a nod from beneath Murray's flesh. Murray slowly removed his hand from Sly's face. Sly threw the hippo a filthy look, then glanced at his kitchen wear wearing tortoise friend.

"What's going on?" He said with enormous restraint.

"Dude, do you not see what's happening over there? They're getting all chummy together…" Bentley said, with a face that said he had a nasty taste in his mouth.

"So?" Sly whined.

"They're exchanging boyfriend stories." Murray interjected grimly.

The colour drained from the raccoon's face.

"They couldn't… I mean they only just met… They wouldn't…would they? Let me see."

Murray nodded, and lifted Sly so he could peek over the countertop. He held him there for a few seconds, before lowering him back down to the safety of their hideaway.

"Oh God…" He whimpered.

"Bad?" Bentley asked.

"I caught the word 'premature'."

Both Bentley and Murray visibly winced.

"Whadda we do?" Murray spluttered.

"Try and get to the front door. If we can get outside then I can smoke bomb the building." Bentley whispered.

Sly threw him an exasperated look.

"Look, I say we slowly make our way back to your room." He whispered back. "We can hole up there for a while."

"What're you guys doing down there?"

All three thieves screamed loudly. Murray's was embarrassingly effeminate.

They looked up from their low position to see Carmelita leaning over the counter. Murray was still suspending Sly a few inches of the floor around his waist.

"Hi sweetie," Sly attempted, "we were just…um."

Fortunately his feeble excuse was put out of it's misery by the arrival of Penelope.

"What's going on back here?" She said, stepping around behind the boys. "Don't put that on your head! It's clean!" She shouted, noticing Bentley with the colander. The tortoise shrunk slightly into his shell.

"Wale, it seems lil' boys nevah do quite grow up." Mz. Ruby commented appearing beside Carmelita.

-

It took the girls quite a while to lure Bentley, Sly and Murray from the back of the kitchen counter. They eventually emerged on the express assurance that nothing to do with themselves as romantic interests would be discussed, and only then when it was put in writing. Instead they all sat around in chairs discussing past adventures and defeats, Bentley, Murray and the girls laughing at the various stories and new perspectives, and listening solemnly to serious stories and offering assurances. Still, Sly couldn't bring himself to participate. He listened quietly to the stories, but he passed no comment. He kept eyeballing Mz. Ruby, wondering what Murray saw in her, wondering even more what manner of hex she had in place of his hippo friend. He began to obsess, his thoughts becoming circular and always arriving at the same point; the deaths of his parents. She'd been there, she'd seen their blood spilt, and she still had the constitution to rip her share of pages from the Thievius Raccoonus, no matter what she said. His eyes drifted to the picture of his father propped up against the far wall. What would he say if he knew that his son was willingly tolerating the company of one of the persons responsible for not only his death, but the death of his wife? He wouldn't look so proud. The authoritative gaze of D. Cooper stared back, impossible to read. Sly scowled at his dark thoughts.

As the night went on, the party goers grew less. Bentley and Penelope were the first to drift away; they were obviously tired from all the planning. After showing their guests where their sleeping areas were, they made their excuses and left for the cosiness of the back bedroom. Murray was the next to leave for bed, the journey over having tired him out. He kissed his girlfriend on the cheek, and she assured him that she'd 'be with him soon'. Sly stared on with poorly disguised contempt. Murray left for the study, where a roll out double bed had been set up, with plenty of extra blankets and sleeping bags.

Shortly after Murray left, a lull in the conversation developed, largely due to the fact that with only three of them it was much harder for Sly to hide his true feelings. He glanced over at Carmelita, who yawned and stretched.

"I'm sorry hon, but I think I'm gonna have to head to bed too." She spoke softly.

"That's fine. I'll be along too in a little while." Sly nodded. He resolved himself to go to bed last. No way was he turning his back on Mz. Ruby.

Carmelita nodded back, and shot a worried glance between the raccoon and the crocodile. Sly forced a smile, to reassure her. She nodded finally, not entirely convinced, but paced to the spare bedroom and closed the door behind her with a soft click. The silence hung in the room like a quintessence of dust. Mz. Ruby was the first to break it.

"An then ther wuz too."

"Why don't we cut the crap, Ruby?" Sly snapped. "I've held back so far for Murray's sake, but once I find out what you're up to I'm taking you down."

Mz. Ruby looked away, looking hurt by Sly's words.

"Ah gess ah deserved thayt," She began. "Yew got so much anger inside yew, evan mah lil' friendship charm wuzn't enough to countah it."

Sly's eyes widened.

"I knew it!" He said raising his voice. "What, have you got Murray under a love spell, is that what's happening?"

"No." She replied, staring at the floor. "Thayt ain't how it is at all. If ah didn't have th' charm yew gahs would nevah have let me in tha door."

"With good reason." Sly said bitterly.

"Ah'm glad that we got a chance tew talk in private," she continued. "Too say ah'm sorry about what happened would be insulting, but ah want yew to know that ah nevah had a direct hand in your pahrents murder."

Sly remained silent. Ruby took a glance behind her, at the portrait of Sly's father.

"He's a fine looking mahn. Almost as fine as his son. Ah remember he fought bravely tew protect your mommy and yourself."

"Don't." Sly growled dangerously. "Don't you talk about him."

Mz. Ruby once again looked hurt.

"Ah can see that it'll take a while for yew to trust me." She said. "Ah'll leave yew alone now."

They rose from their chairs together, Sly keeping a careful eye on the crocodile. Mz. Ruby made to pace to the door to the study when suddenly she stopped.

"Oh," she said "ah almost forgot. Ah brought yew a birthday present."

She fished around in a concealed pocket in her dress.

"I don't want anything from you."

"Please, Slah," Ruby pleaded, pulling a clenched fist from the pocket. "If nothing else evah agin, please accept this gift from me."

Sly rolled his eyes, but stayed on his guard.

"What is it?"

Ruby smiled faintly, and opened her palm to reveal what resembled a small pile of grey dust or ash, with pieces of herb and spice chopped in. He was under whelmed.

"It looks like the inside of a vacuum cleaner."

Mz. Ruby closed her eyes for a moment, like Sly had uttered the very worst kind of blasphemy.

"This is ver powahful magick here Slah. This ain't something ah give to jus' anyone."

"Yeah, well, thanks but no thanks."

"This has unlimited powah Slah, yew can do whatevah yew whant with this. Yew could evan see back to your parents lifetime."

The raccoon's ears pricked up.

"Come here, ah'll show yew."

Cautiously, and with narrowed eyes, Sly stepped towards the crocodile. She held her palm flat for him to see. Her other arm hung limply by her side. He knew he was faster than her, but she had more magic inside her than a game of dungeons and dragons, so he was still wary. He reached her and looked down at the unimpressive pile.

"Now, concentrate. Hard."

Sly frowned, and stared down at the pile once more. He tried concentrated, but nothing happened.

"Trah lookin' more closely," Ruby offered. Sly met her gaze evenly. She stared back openly. He crouched down slightly, his hands on his knees and stared intently at the pile of dust. His nose was mere inches away from her hand.

"This is stupid. I can't see any-"

With that, Mz. Ruby gave a mighty puff, and blew the whole handful into Sly's face.

The raccoon reeled, the dust invading his airspace and burning at his eyes and nose. He couldn't help but inhale the cloud, and a fire consumed his insides, all the way down. His vision began to cloud as the foul material hit his lungs, and he keeled over. His head felt lighter than air, and he started to lose the feeling in his arms and legs.

"R-ruby…" He managed to choke out. Then he turned, positive that his only change to survive was to get to Carmelita, get to her gun. Ruby paced behind him, arms behind her back. She was in no hurry to stop Sly. She smiled down at him as he struggled with the handle to Carmelita's door, then as he fell into the spare room pathetically. She watched as he struggled across the room to the bed, where he collapsed next to his lover. He tried to call to her, but at this point he could barely manage a whisper. Carmelita stirred, but didn't wake up. Sly fought out of sheer anguish for another second, it wasn't fair, it wasn't _fair_, not now – and he lost consciousness. A thin trickle of blood oozed from his nose. Mz. Ruby grinned a wide toothy grin from the doorway.

"Nighty night, Slah Kewper." She said before closing the door behind her.


	5. Peyote Dreaming

Sly tumbled down through the darkness. He couldn't see anything, just the thick, inky blackness. He could feel himself falling, but that was the only indication he had of where he was. He was dropping down into the abyss. He couldn't breath. He couldn't scream. He could only fall. There was no way of telling how far or for how long he fell; his senses were completely blocked out, it could have been ten seconds or a million years. He only felt the landing.

He hit the bottom. Hard. It might've killed him, if the bottom had been physical. He felt the landing like an electric charge through his body. It took the raccoon a few moments to feel around and pull himself doggedly into a sitting position. He looked around. He couldn't see anything around him, it seemed like starless outer space as far as the eye could see, but, strangely, it wasn't as though he were in pitch darkness. He could still see himself perfectly, his own gloved hand wiggled its fingers in front of his face and the blue fabric shone as brightly as ever. That was when he noticed, with a start, that he hadn't been wearing these clothes earlier. He jumped to his feet. He'd worry about that later. He remembered what had happened to sent him here.

"RUBY!" He screamed out into the darkness furiously. "RUBYYYYY!"

A bitter silence greeted him. He glared upwards, the surrounding dark tinted red by his fiery rage. He had no idea what that scaly witch had done to him, he could be in a coma, or worse, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try and do something about it.

A primitive growl of anger escaped his lips. Why? Why hadn't he kicked that woman's green ass the second he saw her in that doorway? And now what? What was happening to Carmelita, Bentley, Penelope and Murray? He couldn't protect them whilst he was stuck in this…place.

He blinked away tears as he took several deep breaths.

"I'm afraid Mz. Ruby isn't here at the moment, Sly." A voice said, directly behind him. Sly's body stiffened, as an electric tingle rippled over his skin and made his fur stand on end . The voice was oddly familiar, a distant and shadowy memory. He turned around slowly. Another raccoon was standing in front of him, dressed in the dark blue garb that Sly used to use for his thieving missions, except that his was arranged more like a suit, and he had no hat. He carried a cane that was identical to Sly's, but he held it more like a walking stick. This raccoon's one extravagance was a white carnation that he wore on one of his lapels. His fur and markings were the same as Sly's, except that he had one noticeable difference; he only had one black ring around his left eye, like he was sporting a permanent monocle.

"Dad…?" Sly whispered.

"It's good to see you again, son." Sly father replied with a small smile.

"No." Sly said, stepping back, fear raising his voice for him. "My father's dead. I don't know _what_ you are."

D. Cooper looked down sadly for a moment, before he spoke again.

"You always were smart Sly, even when you were little. You're right, your father _is_ dead, but I'm here, all the same."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a memory. I'm all that you know about your Dad, unlocked by Mz. Ruby's concoction."

"You're a part of my mind?" Sly asked incredulously. "Why is Ruby doing this to me? Is this a part of her plan? To trap me here while she murders my friends?"

"Not at all. In the morning you'll wake up just like normal, and all your friends will still be there, along with Mz. Ruby. Take it from me, she's good now."

"Did she make you say that?" Sly snorted.

D. Cooper smiled broadly.

"Yes. That's the one part of her magic that she altered. She thinks that if she unlocks some of your old memories for you, you'll trust her."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure son, but if I were a betting man, I'd say that it's your birthday, and this is her misguided attempt to give you a nice present."

Sly took a moment for this to sink in. He looked about himself whilst he gathered his thoughts. Darkness still surrounded him. He looked back to the vision of his father, and fought the urge to embrace the one man he had looked up to his whole life. A tsunami of emotions raged through him, and he fought hard to maintain his composure. Finally he replied.

"Misguided is the word. But how do I know that I can trust you?"

"You can. You _do_. I'm a part of your mind remember Sly, I can only tell you things you already know. If you want me to tell you that Mz. Ruby's evil and that she's going to commit vile atrocities while you sleep I will, but that won't change the truth."

Sly shook his head slightly, reeling from the information. His father was right, he _did_ trust him, despite the bizarre situation.

"Well, I appreciate the thought, but what's the point? If you're a part of me, how can you possibly tell me anything I don't already know?"

D. Cooper shrugged his shoulders.

"You'd be surprised, Sly. The magic Ruby gave you has unlocked the whole of your unconscious. Did you know for instance, that my first name is Daniel?"

That stopped Sly in his tracks. He rolled the name around his mind a few times. He hadn't known his father's full name until this point, but now that he placed it together it just seemed to _fit_ so perfectly.

"My God…" Sly whispered.

"There you go." Daniel grinned. "And there's other benefits too. C'mere."

Sly's father moved towards him and embraced him in a tight hug. Sly hesitated for a second before hugging him right back as hard as he could. He squeezed his face into his father's shoulder, and as he did so a smell entered his nostrils that he obviously hadn't experienced since he was a baby, the smell of cleanly pressed clothes mingling with the faintest hint of aftershave, the smell of his dad.

"I'm proud of you son." Daniel whispered in Sly's ear.

Sly broke down as the emotion became too much for him. He tried to say something, but the words just wouldn't come. His body shook with sobs, and he hugged his dad even closer. It was something he knew, had always known, but hearing it for real was the best birthday present he could have ever received. His father patted his back and rested a hand on the back of his son's head, but Sly wasn't moving, not just yet, if only because he didn't want to let his father see him cry.

"This is…unbelievable." He finally managed to say quietly, rubbing at his eyes.

"It's a lot for you to take in, I know." His father replied quietly. "Grasping back so many old memories all at once is never easy."

"I'll be alright." Sly said. "It just feels so good to be able to talk to you, even if it is like this."

"I know son. Say – how'd you like to see the old house?"

"The old house?" Sly blinked. "You can do that?"

Daniel Cooper flashed a row of pearly white teeth, raised his hand into the air and clicked his fingers with a snap that reverberated all around through the blackness.

Sly looked around. He was in a small living room. The carpet was threadbare paisley, interspersed with the odd stain here and there. He could see an equally worn antique armchair in front of the fireplace. The lighting was soft, the walls were yellowed, the air was warm. He was home.

"God…" the raccoon whispered.

"It's something isn't it?"

"It…it's coming back to me now!" Sly ran to the armchair. "This was your chair! You used to sit here and tell me stories about the jobs you ran."

Daniel leaned in the doorway to the stairs.

"That's right," He smiled.

"This door," Sly darted to the closed door across the room, adjacent to the fireplace, "is the kitchen!"

He flung the door open. A tiny redbrick kitchen met his gaze. Pots and pans shimmered on a shelf above the stove, while opposite, the massive refrigerator hummed quietly at them. The walls were tiled, and a chrome teapot rested on the oven hob. Sly let out a small giggle.

"There's two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, right? You and Mum had the back room with the double bed, and I was in that old cot at the front! Are they here?"

"Yeah, they're here," His father laughed. Sly's eyes darted excitedly around the room. They finally settled on a second closed door, behind his father's chair.

"That door…" he faltered suddenly. "That's the closet. That's where I hid when…"

His voice trailed off.

"It's a tough memory, Sly." The raccoon felt his father's hand on his shoulder and his voice in his ear.

"It wasn't fair dad." Sly whispered to the floor. "Just because you were better at what you did…"

"Sly, you find something fair in this life, you let me know, son."

Sly turned to face his father.

"Why aren't you angry?! How can you be so casual about this? You and Mom, The Fiendish Five, they… I mean there was no reason for it. None at all."

Daniel Cooper met Sly's gaze evenly, an odd bittersweet expression playing about his face.

"You already know why, son. Some small part of me still lives in you, and you know that I could be bitter and twisted about it, but what good would it do me? If those feeling lived in you too then you'd have been consumed by them."

"I don't understand." Sly sniffled.

"You will. If you're asking me if I could have changed things, then yes I would have, without a shadow of a doubt, but if you're asking me if I regret the way things turned out, then no. Not at all."

"What do you mean?" Sly asked. He paced around the worn carpet, the weight of several years worth of bottled up emotions pressing down on him.

"If things hadn't turned out the way they did, then maybe you wouldn't have turned out the way you did. Sly, you adhered to the Cooper code like it was gospel. In many ways you are the best our family has ever seen."

Sly stopped his pacing and smiled a small sad smile at his father.

"If you are a part of me and can only tell me things I already know," Sly spoke carefully, articulating his thoughts "then I must be one conceited son of a bitch."

His father chuckled lightly.

"You may think that Sly, but look at it logically. You were the only Cooper to have grown up without access to the Thievious Raccoonus from the start. You made your way up and got it back all on your own. No relatives of ours taught you how to do our family moves. You stand here now, with several generations of skills under your belt and no one taught them to you but yourself."

Sly breathed deeply, absorbing his father's words. It sounded so big headed to think that this praise was coming directly from somewhere that was hitherto locked up in some distant part of his own sub-conscious, but all the same, the truth in Daniel Cooper's words could not be denied.

"I…I dunno dad…"

"You've done our whole legacy proud, Sly. Your mother and I are proud of you. You know it, just as somewhere out there, we know it."

Sly moved to his father's old chair and sank down into it as the urge to cry took hold of him once more. He fought it off just long enough to say:

"I'm sorry. This…all at once this is too much too…"

His voice collapsed in on itself. Daniel moved to the side of the chair and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"No Sly, _I'm _the one who should be sorry." The older raccoon looked regrettably at the carpet at his son's feet. "This was too much to tell you all at once. I didn't mean to overwhelm you."

"It…It's fine dad. You're right, when I stop to think these are all things that I've known since I was a child, it's just…_hearing_ them, you know?"

"Yeah son. I know."

Sly stood up from his chair and embraced his dad for a second time. Daniel Cooper responded in turn by offering Sly a close hug.

"I love you Dad." Sly said simply.

"I love you too," The greying raccoon replied, it now his turn to get choked up. After a few moments the pair parted, both quickly rubbing at their eyes and noses with blue gloved hands.

"Yes. Well," Daniel said, perhaps sounding a little too gruff to be his normal voice "I'm pretty sure Ruby didn't intend for this birthday present to be a sissy love fest."

"Aw, dad…" Sly started.

"I'm just kidding, Sly, just kidding." His father laughed. "Here, take a seat."

He gestured to the chair that Sly had been sitting in just few moments ago, and as the young raccoon turned around to look, he realised that a second and seemingly identical chair had appeared opposite it. He shrugged. It seemed that physics didn't really apply to this area of his mind. He sat down, and his father took the second chair. His Dad sighed contentedly as he sat, then paused to remove a pipe and some tobacco from a pocket concealed somewhere in his blue shirt. As he filled his smoking accessory, he glanced at his son, the trademark knowing smile playing about his face.

"So," he murmured as he lit up and took a healthy drag, "What would you like to talk about?"

Sly breathed in the familiar and comforting smell of his father's pipe, and for a moment found himself at an utter loss for words.

"I…I dunno Dad. I've always imagined about what I'd like to ask you if I ever got the chance, but now that you're here, I…" Sly broke off and chuckled to himself slightly, "I honestly can't think of anything. I guess I'm still pretty blown away."

"That's fine son." His father smiled. "It's understandable. Here, I've got one for you. How about I tell you one of the stories I used to tell you when you were a tot? You used to love them."

"Yes please," Sly replied enthusiastically. "I can't remember any of them."

"You can't," the older racoon chuckled, "but I can. You'll like this one. I'll tell you the story of how I hooked up with your mother."

"Wow." Sly breathed. A tingle began to form in his stomach, the feeling of excitement that he hadn't felt for some time, perhaps not since he was an infant, and his father had told him the story for the first time. "Go on then, how did you get mom?"

"The same way I got anything in this life Sly," His father paused, pipe in mouth. "I stole her."

"You're kidding." Sly grinned widely.

"You better believe it. Now then; are you sitting comfortably?"

"Yes sir!" Sly said quickly. He pulled his knees up to his chest and listened intently as his father took another drag from his pipe and began to unfold his tale. As he became more and more engrossed in his father's words, the last traces of worry about where he was and Ruby faded away. His father said that everything would be alright, and so they would. His memories from the past had been unlocked, and for that he was eternally grateful. Somewhere in the back of his mind he made a grudging mental note to let Murray's reptilian girlfriend off the hook when he woke up.

Author's Notes:

I am so sorry this took so long to get out. I can't even hide behind university work as an excuse for this anymore. I have fallen out of the habit of writing, but it is something I plan on correcting, hopefully the fan-fiction will help. Also, sorry this chapter is a little shorter than my usual fare, just wanted to get it out quick to get me back into the swing of things. Next chapter to follow very soon, and if it doesn't, for god's sake, nag at me people. No excuse for resting on my laurels and all that. Thank you all for all the kind words you reviewers have left me, and if you like this chapter feel free to leave some more! Comments, suggestions and constructive criticism are always welcome. Thanks very much!


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